


Where the Teddy Bears Have Their Picnic

by xenascully



Category: NCIS
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture, split personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 42
Words: 102,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenascully/pseuds/xenascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony goes missing for over a month. When the team finds him, he's not the man they knew...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters. I just like to play with them...probably at an unhealthy level.

It's been thirty three days since Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo Jr. went missing. His team leader, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, swiped a hand over his tired eyes, forcing himself to look away from his screen at his desk if only for a few moments.   
It was dark out. Three in the morning, to be exact. He was the only one in the building aside from security. He'd ordered the rest of the team home an hour ago, including Abby. They'd all been tirelessly working to find their missing friend since the beginning. But it seemed the harder they looked, the further away from finding him seemed a real possibility.  
Gibbs' eyes found their way to Tony's desk. For the most part, it looked the way the senior field agent had left it that day before he'd disappeared. McGee and Ziva had both, on separate occasions, searched it for any signs or clues that might assist them in figuring out just what had happened to him. But they took special care to leave it as they'd found it. It might have been for the soul reason that it somehow provided them some sense of comfort; the notion that he'd be returning...  
This, of course, was a couple of weeks before they'd received a devastating package addressed to Gibbs. It contained hair, blood and urine samples, along with a short, typed letter. Abigail Scuito, their forensic scientist and one of Tony's closest friends, confirmed that the samples all came from Tony, and all very recently. The note and the package everything came in, had no traces of DNA or prints. No forensic evidence to be found. Nothing to lead them any closer to where Tony was or who had him. It was simply a bragging right, the note saying nothing more than that they wouldn't find him; not until it was finished.  
What the kidnapper meant by that, they could only assume. It'd been another two weeks since they'd gotten that package. There'd been no more. No demands. Nothing...  
Gibbs stood from his desk and made his way over to Tony's, carefully sitting down in the agent's chair as his eyes scanned over the contents of the desktop. He hadn't done this before; not since Tony had disappeared. Part of him felt like he was giving in to the inevitable by doing so. But he couldn't bring himself to go through the agent's desk; not even with Vance breathing down his neck about finding a replacement. No way in hell...  
Gibbs closed his eyes, trying to will the ache behind his eyes away, and he thought about the last day he'd seen his agent...

33 days ago...

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked as he rounded the corner into the bullpen.  
“Yes, Boss!”  
“What do ya got?”  
“Uh...I haven't actually been able to get ahold of Simons, Boss. He's not answering any of his phones. And I'm still waiting on that analysis from Abby.”  
“Boss, I did manage to get the warrant for his house, though,” McGee interjected.   
Gibbs glanced at the younger agent then back to Tony, “Good, McGee. You're with me. Ziva, you too,” he said as he made his way toward the elevator.  
“Boss?” Tony called out. “What about me?”  
“Go get your analysis from Abby, then meet us out at the Simons' place,” he called back, nonchalantly. The elevator doors closed as Tony gave a disappointed yet resigned sigh.

*~.~*

“What, exactly, did you do to piss Gibbs off, Tony?” McGee queried as they searched the basement of the Simons home.  
“That's just it, McGoo! I didn't do anything!” Tony whispered loudly in an aggravated tone.  
“Perhaps that is why, then,” Ziva smirked. “You did nothing.”  
Tony glared at her for a moment, but his retort was cut short when Gibbs appeared on the staircase. “Ziva,” he motioned for her to come upstairs with him. She sent a smirk in Tony's direction and followed Gibbs up the steps. “Simons wants to give a confession,” he told her. “Apparently there's something to find in this house and he wants it to look better that he confesses before being found out.”  
“You want me to take his statement,” she surmised. He nodded. “Gibbs, what are you upset with Tony about?” she asked.  
“What makes you think I'm upset with him?” he queried, seriously interested to understand the overheard conversation he'd heard from the stairs moments earlier.  
“Because you seem to be...”  
“Well, I'm not,” he furrowed his brow. “A jogger knocked my coffee outta my hand on the way in this morning. Haven't had a chance to refill.”  
“And you are taking this out on Tony, but not the rest of us?” she raised an inquisitive brow.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “You want to be added to that list, Agent David?” She shook her head and furrowed her brow. Gibbs' expression softened, however. “I'll buy 'im a beer later; make it up to him. Happy?”  
She smirked, “He will be.”

Present Time

Gibbs was pulled from his thoughts when the elevator sounded with a ding. He looked up to see Abby in over-sized flannel pajamas and a trench coat as she headed purposefully toward the bullpen. As she got closer, he could tell she'd been crying.   
“Abby, what are you doin' here? What's wrong?” he said as he stood and made his way around the desk.  
“I went home like you told me, Gibbs. And I had some decaffeinated tea and took a long hot shower and went straight to bed,” she explained as she slowly paced up and down the middle of the bullpen. “But then I had this horrible dream,” her voice cracked. “And I couldn't go back to sleep, Gibbs. I couldn't bear to have that dream again and I couldn't stay home and think about how this nightmare could very well come true. I had to come back to work, Gibbs. I have to keep working. I have to find Tony...”  
“Abs,” he stopped her by grabbing her arms with both hands and she stopped in front of him and looked him in the eyes. But what could he tell her? To stop? Not to worry about it? To go back home and try to get back to sleep? How could he possibly expect her to do all the things he refused to do himself? “Oh, Gibbs,” she cried and fell into his chest. “We have to find him... He can't be dead... He can't be like I saw him in my nightmare. Please tell me he's not dead, Gibbs!”  
“He's not dead, Abby,” he said in barely a whisper as he held her. He knew this, only because the kidnapper said they wouldn't find him until it was finished. He could only assume that had meant they'd find him if he were dead. They would've found him...right?

33 days ago...

“You really should have mentioned the invitation for a beer before we left him to drive back alone,” Ziva smirked to Gibbs as they headed back toward NCIS.   
“I think you underestimate DiNozzo's ability to tolerate my moods,” he retorted with an amused smirk. “Sometimes a beer is all the sweeter if it's been a long time comin'.”  
Ziva scrunched her brow in confusion, “Beer is not supposed to be sweet, is it? It is bitter, no?” she turned her head to look back at McGee who was now smiling. Even Simons, who sat calmly beside him in cuffs, seemed to be a bit amused.  
Gibbs' cell rang and he fished it out of his pocket. “Yeah. Gibbs.”  
“Hey, Boss,” DiNozzo's voice sounded on the other line, in a somewhat monotone manner. “I might be a while longer getting back.”  
“Why is that, DiNozzo?”  
“My lucky day just got luckier. Flat tire.”  
“You got a spare?”  
“Yeah. Getting ready to change it, now.”  
“Well, hurry it up, Tony. I'd like to wrap up this case before the workday is out.” He ended the call with that and put his phone back in his pocket.  
“Tony got a flat?” McGee asked.   
“He really is a magnet for negativity today,” Ziva commented...

One hour later...

“Where the hell is DiNozzo?” Gibbs growled as he reentered the bullpen. “He ever make it back here?”  
“I don't think so, Boss,” Tim said from his desk.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes with a flash of concern and pulled out his phone to see if he'd missed any calls. Seeing none, he dialed Tony's number. Ziva and McGee watched him with an equal level of concern and curiosity. “He's not pickin' up,” Gibbs said. “McGee, see if you can locate his GPS.”  
“On it,” he replied as he quickly typed into his computer. Impatiently, Gibbs rounded the desk so he could lean over Tim's shoulder as he worked. “Looks like uh...he's about a mile from Simons home on Main Street. 30 meters from the road...” he looked up at Gibbs. “That's in the wooded area, Boss,” his face washed with concern.  
“Let's go,” Gibbs said, storming back to his desk to grab his badge and gun. Ziva and McGee scrambled toward the elevator after retrieving their own...

*~.~*

Gibbs pulled the car to a screeching halt behind Tony's abandoned car. The rear driver side tire was, indeed, flat. The three agents quickly exited the Charger and went to work. “Keys are still in the ignition, Boss,” McGee said.  
“His pack is still in the car. Front seat on the floor,” Ziva told him. Gibbs was busy dialing Tony's number and motioned for them to follow him into the wooded area on the side of the road. They followed; guns cautiously drawn, and possible scenarios playing in their heads as they listened for Tony's ringer. Tony could have been attacked or mugged, possibly having gone into the woods to relieve himself before changing the tire. He could've been caught off guard, hit in the head and been left to bleed to death, for all they knew.  
Gibbs followed the ringer sound, scanning the ground for a body. But when they finally did come across the phone, there was nothing but that. No blood; no trail; no indication of anyone having been there. Nothing...


	2. Chapter 2

Present Time...

Something in Gibbs' gut started to churn as he'd gone over the events from that fateful day. He pulled from Abby's embrace and looked at her for a moment. Well, not really at her, but in her direction, and his eyes wandered around in thought.  
“What is it, Gibbs?” she asked, cocking her head slightly. “You're making your gut-feeling face.”  
“Yeah...” he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No trail, Abby,” he said aloud.   
“No...trail? Well, yeah, Gibbs. That's been the problem all along. There's nothing to trace. He didn't leave a trail.”  
“No, Abby. No trail into the woods. There was no trail 'til we made one,” he headed quickly for the stairwell, Abby close on his tail.   
“What do you mean?”  
“We found his cell about 30 meters into the woods, but there were no shoeprints, no broken or disturbed plant-life,” he said as he hurriedly descended down to the floor where Abby's lab was located.  
“Then...how did his phone get there?” she asked as they exited the stairwell and walked quickly into the lab.  
“Where is it? Tony's cell?” he asked as he rummaged through the evidence box. But he didn't need her help as he found the bag himself. He held it up to the light, carefully examining the outside edges. “See that?” he showed her.  
“The scratch marks? People drop their phones all the time, Gibbs. What're you...wait,” she threw off her coat and slipped on a pair of latex gloves before taking the bag from his hands, opening it, and pulling out the phone. She clicked on the light to her standing magnifying glass and pulled it down toward the table so she could get a closer look. After a few moments, she looked back up at the silver-haired agent. “Gibbs, I didn't find anyone's prints but Tony's on here, so I assumed he'd just dropped it when he was attacked. But he didn't drop it. This phone was thrown, and by the looks of these grooves, it was probably from as far away as the street. What are you thinking?”  
Gibbs' eyes narrowed, “His car still down in the evidence garage?”

*~.~*

Gibbs paced around the car in thought; running through what they knew and what they might have missed purely due to misleading evidence.  
“Come on, Gibbs!” Abby watched him, almost getting seasick. “Give me some direction, here. Delegate!”  
“When Tony called me,” he said, “He told me he was about to change the tire. But the trunk was closed when we got there; keys still in the ignition.”  
“Right. And we searched the trunk. Nothing was taken out. The jack and the spare are still under the floorboard.”  
Gibbs thought back to that phone call. “He sounded flat when he talked,” he said. “Tired, maybe.”  
“Like...drugged tired?”  
“No,” he looked down at the tire. “Abs, you said the tire had a nail through it?”  
“Yeah. It was one of those steel square nails they used to build Victorian style houses in the 1920s.”  
“Simons' house was Victorian-style.”  
“Yeah, but this was a new nail, Gibbs. Meaning, it was made to renovate that type of house. But Simons wasn't renovating. Ziva and Timmy already checked the house with a fine-toothed comb.”  
“When did they do that?” he asked with a furrowed brow.  
“After the...package arrived,” Abby said, fresh tears threatening her eyes again. “It was actually McGee's idea. He remembered the type of nail, and once we found evidence that this was a professional kidnapping and not just some psycho hiker that pulled a fast upper-hand on Tony, he put together that it could've come from that house. He and Ziva went just to see if it looked like anyone might even be there at all. Officially, it's uninhabited. He said if he'd seen any sign someone was there, he'd call for back-up and invade immediately.”  
“But no one was there,” he surmised.  
“Not even a mouse,” she cocked her jaw. “And no more nails anywhere along that road leading up to where Tony's car was found.”  
“We searched that entire wooded area and there were no signs of him,” Gibbs thought aloud, still pacing. But then he stopped and stared into the back seat...

33 days ago...

Tony pulled out of the driveway of the Simons home and onto the narrow two-way road leading away from it. His mind continued to race, searching for whatever thing he might have done to piss Gibbs off. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the back seat fold down slowly and silently, opening the access from the trunk...  
It was when he felt the cold metal against his neck that his thoughts were brought quickly back to the present.  
“Pull over,” an unfamiliar male voice said from behind him. Tony glanced into the rear view mirror. The man was clothed from head to toe in black. Leather gloves fitted over his hands, and Tony could feel the gun-free one close around his neck from the other side.  
Tony obeyed the command, pulling the car over to the side of the road. “What do you want?”  
“Call your employer,” he demanded. “Tell him you'll be a while. Tell him you have a flat and that you don't need help changing it.”

Present Time...

“The kidnapper was in the car, waiting for him,” Gibbs said.  
Abby furrowed her brow, “I don't think Tony would've missed someone waiting in the back seat in broad daylight.”  
“He didn't start out there,” Gibbs said as he opened the front door to pop the trunk, then opened the back door to pull down the back of the seat. “Trunk access.”  
Abby's brows rose in thought, “He hid in the trunk and came out while Tony was driving...forced him to pull over...”

33 days ago...

“Throw the phone into the woods,” the man demanded as they stood outside.  
Tony sighed in aggravation, then regretfully complied. “Ya know, once they do find my car,” he said, “They'll realize I never had a flat. They'll know right away that I'd been forced over and that I'd lied.”  
“Get into the van,” the man demanded, cocking his head in thought. Tony cursed under his breath. The man had known where his back-up weapon was, and even his belt-knife. He was completely unarmed and about to be shoved into the back of an unmarked van. He was so screwed...  
The man secured Tony onto the metallic bench that was bolted to the floor in the back of the van. He was cuffed with his hands behind him and his feet to a thick eye-screw on the floor. The man grabbed a hammer, and for a moment, Tony feared he'd be knocked out with this device. But instead, his captor fished around the toolbox for a nail. Once he found it, he backed out of the van and shut the doors, throwing Tony into complete darkness.  
The captor walked back to the car and drove the nail into the tire with one heady slam of the hammer, causing the tire to immediately expel its air. Satisfied, the man returned to the van...

Present Time...

“Tony didn't get a flat,” Gibbs said. “The kidnapper drove that nail into the tire to throw us off.”  
“So the nail was never a clue,” Abby added.  
“No, it's a clue alright,” he told her, narrowing his eyes. “Just pointing in a different direction.”  
Her eyes flicked around in the air between them. “The kidnapper had these nails... Gibbs, the kidnapper is some kind of contractor!” she said, excitedly. “He could've been renovating for someone and had these left over in a toolbox. And if he had a toolbox with him-”  
“You really think he'd have brought a toolbox with him?” Gibbs cocked his head.  
“Hmm...I guess not. That...doesn't really make much sense at all, huh?”  
Gibbs' gaze drifted for a moment in thought. “Someone was following them,” he said. “It was planned, or they would've just taken him in Tony's car.”  
“So there are at least two people we're looking for,” Abby concluded.  
“Probably used a work van.”  
“Right. Because a truck doesn't really work for hauling kidnap victims.”  
“Abs, I need you to find out exactly who made that nail and find every company within a hundred miles that's ordered them in the past six months,” he said before turning to go back to the elevator.  
“No problem, Bossman!” she said. “What are you gonna do?”  
“Gonna find out if DiNozzo pissed off any construction workers...”

*~.~*

0530...

Gibbs had decidedly allowed his team a couple of much needed hours of sleep before calling them to come back in. He needed help; he was getting no where with this long list that they'd all become far too familiar with, and he needed a couple fresh pairs of eyes.   
Tim and Ziva arrived by 0600, not having even bothered to grab coffee on the way in. They knew by Gibbs' tone that he'd found some kind of lead. And like their boss, they were determined to follow whatever it might be.   
Gibbs' eyes could barely focus on the papers in front of him. McGee noticed this right away. He also noticed that Gibbs was wearing the same clothes he had on the night before, which meant he'd not been home.   
“Boss...” Gibbs looked over at Tim's concerned tone. “Ziva and I can make these calls,” he told him. “You should go get some sleep.” Gibbs attempted a glare, but found it made his eyes sting.  
“McGee is right, Gibbs,” Ziva was suddenly in front of his desk. He looked up at her. “If we should find something, you'll need to be on top of your game for us to follow it. And right now, you are not.”  
“We can handle this, Boss,” Tim continued. “We'll come get you the moment we find anything.”  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. He felt a twinge of pride in Tony's probie, standing up to his boss when he knew it really did matter. “The moment you do,” Gibbs pointedly said. “I'll be in autopsy,” he said as he stood from his desk.

11 00 11 00 11

0715...

Doctor Donald “Ducky” Mallard exited the elevator with his trench coat slung over his arm as he headed into autopsy. It was dark, as expected at this hour, but when the door hissed open he saw someone lying on his side asleep on the nearest cold table. It only took him a moment's pause to realize it was Gibbs, and he decided to leave the overhead lights off.  
Quietly, the doctor hung his coat on the rack and removed his hat to hang it as well. Then he made his way to his desk and flicked on the desk lamp with intentions to go over the files from the previous day. His thoughts, however, slipped back to his good friend lying on that cold table, and a rare moment of displayed emotion from the day before...

1830 the previous day...

Ducky's assistant, Jimmy Palmer, was just closing up one of the refrigerated wall units when Gibbs entered autopsy. Palmer's instincts wanted to ask the agent if they'd found anything out about Tony; a man he'd come to call a friend over the years, and had grown increasingly concerned for his well-being this past month. But the look on Leroy Jethro Gibbs' face told him all the answers he could've gotten. In fact, the look seemed lost and hurt and really made the young assistant want to cower into a helpless corner. If Agent Gibbs had that look, then things must really be looking bad.  
“I'll...go take this...sample to Abby,” Jimmy picked up an empty specimen container and hurried out the door.  
Ducky would've smirked at the lad, had he not been so concerned about the look on his friend's face in that moment. “Jethro? Is something wrong?”  
Gibbs turned to face him, “'Course there's somethin' wrong, Duck. My senior agent is still missing and we've got nothing.”  
“Yes. Well, the same has been true for over a month, now, my friend. We're all equally as concerned. But you seem as though something has happened...” Ducky looked him over for a moment as the agent shook his head dismissively. His eye caught a fresh, wet amber stain washing down the side of his shirt. “You spilled your coffee, I take it,” Ducky went to the sink and wet a cloth.  
“I didn't spill anything,” Gibbs retorted. “Damn joggers in this city; you'd think they couldn't see anything but the pavement.”   
“Ahh,” the doctor wrung out the cloth.  
“Happened that day, too, Duck,” his voice softened. Ducky turned in place and watched Gibbs' back as he continued. “I was pissed about it and I took it out on DiNozzo.”  
“Anthony is quite capable of tolerating your moods, Jethro. You know this,” he said as he walked back over to face the front of his friend, handing him the wet cloth.  
“Well, Ziva made me aware I was doin' it, and that I was doin' it solely to him. And even then, I let him stew in thinkin' he did somethin' wrong. I was gonna invite him for a beer after work to make it up to him, but I let him stew, Ducky. And this whole time, he's been in captivity thinkin' he did somethin' wrong. He's been lyin' somewhere for thirty-three days thinkin' I'm not lookin' for him!” his voice cracked with that last statement and he turned away from his friend and threw the cloth back toward the sink, and tried to hide his reddening eyes as the fiercely stung with tears he'd refused to allow.  
Gibbs leaned forward on the cold table and Ducky came up beside him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Jethro...”  
“I sent him out there alone, Duck. I even made him ride back alone. Shoulda had someone ride back with him...”  
“Now, Jethro, had you done that, we might have two agents missing,” Ducky pointed out. “Who's to say there wasn't more than one captor? Especially since they had the upper-hand on young Anthony.”  
Gibbs was silent for a moment as he contemplated that fact. The facts, though, remained; Tony was missing. They had no leads and it had been over a month. And now Vance was starting to make talk as if Tony wouldn't be coming back. All of that was crushing down on Gibbs with a powerful force that had been driving him closer and closer toward that pit of helplessness.  
“What am I supposed to do, Duck?” he asked in a quiet voice. And then louder, accompanied with a hand hitting hard against the surface of the table, “What am I supposed to do?!” his face, red with anger and anguish and...whatever else might have been flowing so thickly through his veins, met the sympathetic one of his older friend.  
“Find him, Jethro,” he replied, calmly. “And you will.”  
Gibbs nodded, “But will it be too late?” he blinked rapidly in effort to stifle the threatening liquid from escaping. “What if he's already dead?”  
“He's not.”  
“Ducky, you can't know that.”  
“Yes, I can,” he replied with conviction. “Anthony is not dead. And the moment you start thinking that he is, is the moment you begin failing him.”  
It was with those words that Gibbs dropped his head, allowing the pent up frustration, anger and fear to seep for a mere fraction of a moment, in the form of two tears that immediately were swiped away...

Present Time...

Ducky was pulled from his thoughts when the door to autopsy hissed open and McGee came rushing inside. “Ah, Timothy,” Ducky whispered as he stood from his chair and took a few steps toward him. “What can I do for you, lad?”  
“I came down here to wake up Gibbs,” he said, slightly out of breath.  
“I'm up,” Gibbs said, pushing himself up to sit.  
Tim turned to face him, looking anxious as he spoke, “Boss, Abby and I scoured the inside of Tony's trunk and back seat and we found a hair.” Gibbs looked up at him. “She ran it through the system and we got a hit, Boss.” Gibbs straightened and jumped down off of the table. “His name is Shaun Cullen,” Tim explained as the two of them rushed to the elevator. “And get this; right as Abby called to give me the name, I happened to be looking through the background for a Michael Cullen in the list of names you had us going through. He's a private contractor, Boss.”  
“Relation?”   
“He has Shaun listed as his brother.”  
“Connection to DiNozzo?”  
“Tony was on the team in Peoria that booked Michael Cullen for supposed illegal drug distribution. But he was later cleared of all charges. There's nothing saying Tony ever interacted with Shaun Cullen at all. He was present for the trial, but disappeared after his brother was cleared. No one's heard from him, since.”  
The elevator doors opened on their floor. “Get me a warrant to search Michael Cullen's home and place of business.”  
“On it, Boss,” he replied, but they both stopped short when they realized Fornell was sitting at Gibbs' desk...


	3. Chapter 3

“There a reason you're here, Tobias?” Gibbs asked, stopping in front of his desk.  
“Can't a guy drop in an' say hello to a friend?” Fornell cocked his head with a telling smirk.  
Gibbs raised a brow, “Yeah. But that's not why you're here.”  
“Well,” Fornell stood, “It's not the only reason. Ms. Scuito ran a DNA sample through the system and got a hit on someone we've been looking for. I wanna know where you got the DNA.”  
“You're lookin' for Shaun Cullen?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Why?”  
“We've been looking for him for six months, Jethro. Tell me this ain't the guy you think took DiNutso...”  
“Found the DNA in DiNozzo's car. We think Cullen's brother could be working with him. Again, I'll ask, why is the FBI looking for Shaun Cullen?”  
Tobias looked around the bullpen at McGee and Ziva before looking to Gibbs again. “Your office, Jethro?”  
Impatiently, Gibbs rolled his neck and headed out of the bullpen. “McGee!”  
“Y-yes, Boss?”  
“Warrant!”  
“Right, Boss. Sorry, Boss...”  
Gibbs and Fornell entered the elevator and Gibbs hit the emergency switch once the doors closed. “Tell me everything you know, Tobias,” Gibbs glared.  
Fornell took a breath and appraised the worn look on his friend's face. “It's not good,” he told him. “And if he's workin' with his brother, that's news to us. We interviewed Michael four months ago. At the time, we were searching for Shaun for a murder in Berkley. Found skin under the fingernails of the victim, belonging to him. But other than that, we had no leads. Not two weeks after we talked to Michael, we found another body. We're pretty sure Shaun is the same killer.”  
“Killed the same way?”  
“No, actually. That's what threw us off at first. Both vics were found dumped on the side of the road, but they had no similarities or connections. And they were killed in different ways. First vic was female, early 30's. Blonde hair, brown eyes. She was beaten over a period of two weeks before she bled to death internally.” Gibbs swallowed and waited for him to continue. “Victim number two; male, Asian, late 30's. He didn't even live in the area we found him, which was Norfolk, by the way. He'd been held for, what our pathologist says, according to the wounds and degeneration of internal organs before death, over two months. He was subjected to being drugged the entire time, sodomized as well as beaten, and purposefully exsanguinated.”  
“How the hell did you make a connection?” Gibbs' voice seemed hoarse now.  
“We later found out there was a box sent for each victim to someone close to them,” he said.  
Gibbs' eyes widened. “Blood, hair and urine samples...”  
“Yeah,” he narrowed his eyes. “Shit, Gibbs, did you get one for-”  
“Yeah, we did. There were no prints...nothin'.”  
“Never leaves a damn thing,” Tobias said. “It's why it's been so damn hard to find him. That, and the guy's been off the radar for over ten years. His brother hadn't even seen him; volunteered for a polygraph and everything.”  
“Doesn't mean he hasn't seen him since,” Gibbs said, flicking the switch back on and hitting the button to open the doors. “When did you find the second body?”  
“Little over six weeks ago, Jethro,” he told him as the walked out and toward the elevator. Gibbs paused in his steps and looked at him. “I'm sorry.”  
So that was that...this was their man. “I want everything you have from the autopsy findings sent to Ducky,” he told him as they continued to the bullpen. “We work together on this, Tobias. Don't care about credit; just want my agent found.”  
“Wasn't about to try an' fight you for it,” Fornell replied. “I'll make a call and get the files sent,” he walked over to the window as he pulled out his phone.  
“Gibbs?” Ziva anxiously approached him as he went to his desk. “What is going on? Why is the FBI looking for Cullen?”  
Gibbs looked up at her once he sat down, and she was slightly taken aback at the momentary, unfamiliar flash of despair on his face. He masked it immediately, allowing determination to take over instead. “Cullen has killed at least two people in the past six months.”  
Ziva raised her brows, “A serial killer?”  
“Fornell is having the autopsy findings sent to Duck. I want the victims' names run through every database we have access to. I wanna know where they lived over the past decade; where they shopped; who their friends were. I wanna know what they ate for breakfast every morning for the past year!” he shouted and looked around the bullpen. “Where's McGee?”  
“He is getting the warrant,” she reminded him. “I will start looking, Gibbs. I just need the names,” he voice was firm but quiet, and Gibbs appraised her for a moment.   
“Files are being sent now,” Fornell walked back into the bullpen as he put his phone in his pocket.   
Gibbs looked past Ziva at the agent, “Give Ziva the names of the vics,” he told him, then looked up toward Vance's office. “I'll be right back,” he said as he stormed out of the bullpen and around to the stairs. Ziva and Tobias watched as he took the stairs two at a time all the way up.  
“Agent Gibbs-” the secretary tried, only halfheartedly, to stop him from advancing into the director's office, but knew there would really be no point.  
Gibbs entered the office as Vance was in the middle of arguing against McGee's request for a warrant. “I thought I told you to drop this, Agent Gibbs,” Vance said, ignoring the fact that the agent had waltzed in without announcement.   
“We have new evidence,” Gibbs said as he approached the desk to stand beside Tim.   
“A hair from a Shaun Cullen, yes, I heard. Doesn't give probable cause to search his brother's home.”  
“It does when his brother has a connection to DiNozzo, and our only other lead is that the kidnapper had access to a specific type of square nail that only he has ordered in the past three months, of all private and public contractors in the area.”  
“I'm still not hearing enough to get you a warrant,” Vance narrowed his eyes.  
“How about the fact that we're workin' with Fornell on this?” Gibbs retorted.  
Vance straightened and raised his brows. “Fornell is workin' DiNozzo's case now?”  
“He's workin' Shaun Cullen's case, Leon. Michael is our only connection to Shaun, and he has to be involved somehow. You get me that warrant, Director, or I'll give you my badge and gun and do it myself.” Gibbs' words caused Tim to glance over at him in a bit of surprise.   
But then he looked back at Vance, “That goes for me, too,” he told him. If Vance hadn't been obviously surprised by Gibbs' threat, he sure as hell was taken aback by McGee's.   
“McGee...” Gibbs looked over at him.  
“No, Boss,” he retorted. “Tony is my friend, and he's a member of our team. We never leave a man behind. I'm sure as hell not gonna start now.” Gibbs felt proud of his agent for the second time that day. Tim turned to look at Vance, and took a step closer to the desk, “Director, Tony could be out there, right now, on Michael's property. It's the closest thing we've got; the only thing we've got...”  
“What makes either of you think he's still even alive?” Vance asked.   
“Shaun Cullen is a serial killer,” Gibbs said. Tim backed up a bit and looked over at Gibbs with a furrowed brow. “He takes his victims, tortures them; keeps them for however long they can stay alive. The guy before DiNozzo was held over two months. Cullen dumps the bodies out in the open. If Tony was dead, we'd have found him.”  
McGee's mind tried to compute what Gibbs had just told Vance. The two older men continued their discussion, but Tim didn't hear. He'd been afraid for Tony's life the entire time the senior field agent had been missing. But somehow this new information seemed to further confirm the morbid possibility and shove any inclinations he'd hoped for, that they'd find him alive and well, out the window.   
“McGee?” Tim was pulled abruptly from his thoughts at the sound of Gibbs' voice, and he looked up at him.   
“Boss?”   
“Ready to go?”  
Tim furrowed a brow and looked over at Vance who was now sitting, then back to his boss, before giving a confused nod and following the man out of the office. “Sorry, Boss,” he said in a low voice as they exited the secretary's office out onto the landing. “I think I zoned out of the last part of that conversation.”   
Gibbs stopped and turned to face him, “You okay?” Tim bit down on his bottom lip and, after a moment, he nodded. Gibbs recognized the agent's unwillingness to have answered otherwise. He placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, “Let's go find Tony.”

11 00 11 00 11

McGee rode with Ziva, and Fornell rode with Gibbs on the way to the Cullen residence. Gibbs had made a new rule since Tony's disappearance; no riding alone to or from a suspect's home. That was rule 53. Rule 53a was now, 'Always check your trunk'. Neither agent questioned the new rules.   
As the cars pulled up the long dirt driveway and came to a stop in front of the house, Gibbs noticed, right away, the work van parked beside it. The four of them exited their vehicles and Gibbs motioned for Ziva and Tobias to go ahead to the door as he and Tim headed toward the van.  
“What is it, Boss?” he asked as they reached it.  
Gibbs wasn't ready to answer yet. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, causing Tim to do the same, and reached for the handle to open the back doors and flung them open. The back of the van was closed off from the front with what looked like a sheet of plywood that had been turned into shelving. It looked like the inside of any work van, really. Except for the metal bench on the right side of it.   
“Check the toolbox for those nails,” he told McGee. “The square ones like the one you an' Abby found in the tire.” McGee climbed into the van, opened the box and began to rummage through it as Gibbs concentrated on the area of the out-of-place bench. There was an eye screw bolted into the floorboard. A few metallic shavings, almost like power, around it on the floor. It didn't take longer than a moment to register what it had been used for.  
He looked closer at the bench and something caught his eye on the wall behind it. Right where the seat met the wall, a 'X' had been scratched...

33 days ago...

In the darkness, bound with no where to go, Tony knew there was no way out of the confines of the van. With the sharp metal edge of the cuffs that bound his hands behind him, he began to scrape against the wall.  
“I'm gonna need your help gettin' outta this one, Boss...”

Present Time...

“This is the van they took him in,” Gibbs said aloud.  
“I think you're right, Boss,” McGee said, holding up several square nails...

*~.~*

Gibbs and McGee ran back to the front of the house. “There is no answer, Gibbs,” Ziva informed him.  
“Break it down,” Gibbs commanded. Fornell gave him a questioning look, but Ziva immediately obeyed, kicking in the door.   
“Federal agents!” Ziva loudly announced them as they hurriedly entered the house, weapons aimed in every possible direction.  
“Gibbs!” Ziva called from the kitchen. He made his way to her and she motioned with her head toward the center of the room.  
There, sitting at the kitchen table with a resigned look on his face, sat the occupant of the house; his head bowed toward the table and his hands folded neatly on its surface.  
“Michael Cullen?” Gibbs asked. The man simply lifted his head to look at him. “Where's your brother? We know you've been helping him.” Cullen simply pasted a wide, closed mouth grin on his face. “Ziva, McGee; search the rest of the house.” They scrambled off to obey as Fornell came to back up Gibbs.  
“You won't find my brother in here,” Cullen told him. “I've helped him all I can. Now it's done.”  
“What do you mean?” Fornell asked.   
“Michael had always been...a bit off...” the man told them; his gaze drifting off to the side a bit.  
“You're Michael,” Fornell replied.  
The man grinned and looked at him again, “That's what he wanted you to think. What we both...thought we wanted...”  
“You're Shaun...” Gibbs surmised.  
“Excellent detective work, Agent Gibbs,” Shaun said, eerily. “It's too bad it took you so long to figure it out.”  
“Where's my agent?” he stepped closer, aiming the gun at the man's face.   
Shaun didn't so much as flinch. “Whoa there now, Gibbs,” he said calmly. “I had nothing to do with your agent.”  
“You're lying. We found your hair in my agent's trunk,” Gibbs said.  
Shaun cocked his head, “Do you still not understand, exactly, what I'm saying, Agent Gibbs?”  
“Why don't you make me understand!” Gibbs shouted. “I wanna know where the hell you're keeping my agent!”  
“Like I said, I don't know. When Michael was charged with distribution, I could only go in and take the fall for him,” he explained. “What better way to do that than to pretend I was him. And after the polygraph and the blood tests, they didn't have much choice but to release me. But without his medication, Michael grew paranoid. He insisted that he keep my name and that we both move on; move out. I didn't realize that he'd been... taking certain matters into his own hands. You see,” he looked at Fornell, “I hadn't seen my brother in...many years. I've been here a long time. He moved around a bit, apparently. Unfortunately, some people ended up crossing the wrong path at the wrong time. He found me, thinking he might be safe here. But then he saw your agent one morning, downtown...just running down the street,” his voice wandered with his attention.   
“Where is your brother?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, losing his patience.  
Shaun met his eyes again and grimly smiled, “He's buried out back. You're a few days too late, Gibbs.”  
“House is clear, Boss,” McGee said as he and Ziva returned to his side.   
“Ziva, cuff him. McGee, call Ducky.”  
“Boss?”  
“There may be a body out back,” Fornell told him. “I'll call my guys to come excavate,” he left the room to make the call.   
But McGee stood stock-still looking at Gibbs. “Boss...a body?” his voice broke and Gibbs looked over at him.  
“Cullen's brother, McGee,” he verified, realizing what the agent must have thought. McGee let out a breath and nodded before leaving the room to make the call to Ducky.   
“If he is dead,” Ziva said after securing Cullen in the cuffs, “Then how will we find Tony?”  
Shaun started laughing. Gibbs scowled in his direction and the man slowly stopped himself. “You think your agent is alive?”  
“We know he is, or he would've dumped his body like the rest of them to be found,” Gibbs said.  
Shaun's smile disappeared. His eyes looked down to the table top. “I- I thought he was finished,” the man suddenly paled. “I thought Michael was finished...it's been...weeks!”  
“It's been over a month!” Gibbs slammed a fist down on the table.  
Shaun met his eyes again. “Agent Gibbs, it's been three weeks since he assured me it was done. I was sure of it. I dropped them off and he did the ransom, and when no one responded, he said he would simply kill him and bury him...like the others...” his eyes darted around in front of him. “When he came home three days ago with blood on his clothes, I assumed he'd hurt someone else. I had to stop him...”  
“And you didn't bother to call about whoever else he might've hurt?” Gibbs asked, angrily.  
“I took care of the problem, Gibbs,” he defended, though his resolve was starting to bend and remorse was showing through. “If I'd have called it in, my life would be over just as well.”  
“Where did you drop them off at?” Gibbs shouted. “Answer me!”  
“There's an old...air field hanger...” his voice was shaky as he spoke now. “It's at the end of a five mile trail outside of my property...”  
Gibbs looked up at Fornell who'd come back into the room to hear it. “Go on, Jethro. I've got him.”  
He nodded to him and turned to his team, “Let's go...” They hurried to Gibbs' car and held on for dear life as he barreled down the narrow trail and pulled out his phone, tossing it to McGee, “Call Duck and tell him we might've gotten a location on Tony. Tell him to get a medevac out here; no way an ambulance will fit. And it's an air field, so they can land out there.”  
McGee dialed Ducky right away and tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead of them in effort not to be sick from the jerking of the car.   
Gibbs was vaguely aware of Tim talking into the phone beside him, but his focus was entirely concentrated on the task at hand. When the hanger could be seen in the distance, he stepped even harder on the gas pedal, bringing them to the building all the faster. He barely threw it into park before they were all getting out of the car and rushing into the building.   
Flashlights and guns drawn, they flooded in. “There is nothing here...” Ziva said as they looked around the large empty expanse.   
“Wait,” McGee said as he pulled open a door in the floor. “There's a lower level,” he looked up and met Gibbs' eyes. Gibbs walked to him and looked down into the passage, shining the flashlight into it. There was a ladder leading down. He pocketed the light and holstered his gun.  
“Shine your light down there,” Gibbs told him. “I'll go first.” McGee lit up the passageway as Gibbs descended the ladder. Once they all reached the lower level, Gibbs looked up and down the corridor. It wasn't open space like the hanger above them, but what seemed like a long hallway with doors all the way up and down. “You two check starting down on the other end,” he ordered. “We'll meet back in the middle. Holler if you find anything.”   
They nodded in acknowledgment and headed off. Gibbs walked down to the opposite end and kicked open the first door. With his light and gun aimed, he visually swept the room to find nothing. The same was true for the next room.   
The third, however, once he'd kick in the door, the familiar smell of death hit him full force. He threw his arm over his nose and mouth and shined the flashlight into the room. The first thing it hit was a generator. He walked up to it and threw on the switch, causing light to fill the room to the extent that it took him a moment to adjust to it.  
Straight ahead of him on the far wall, a figure was hanging on the wall; arms held up and out like a crucifixion, but with ropes. It was a man, he could tell, since he was dressed in nothing but some kind of burlap around his waste. He was emaciated to the point that he almost didn't recognize him...almost.  
Gibbs was frozen in place, staring at the unmoving form across the room. He stared at his chest, hoping; praying for movement...but nothing came. He felt his own breath shudder from his chest. “Oh god...” came in the form a choked whisper. “Tony, I'm sorry...”


	4. Chapter 4

He felt the burning in his eyes as he stepped toward the man he'd known for over eight years... His senior agent; his friend. Everything replayed in his head of that last day before he'd gone missing. Every regretful thing he'd said and done that ended up being the last...  
Gibbs heard the sudden intakes of breath from his agents who had just entered the room. He was now directly in front of Tony, and he needed to keep his composure for their sake, at least. With a shaky hand, after he holstered his gun, he reached up with two fingers toward Tony's neck for verification. But he stopped short, holding back from the inevitable.  
“Boss...” McGee's voice sounded far away, but in reality, the two had moved closer. “Is he...”  
Suddenly, Tony's body arched and he sucked in a breath, causing all of the agents to jump in surprise; scared possibly to the point of freezing. What came out of Tony's mouth then was what would've been a strangled scream, had he the strength to do so.  
“Tony!” Gibbs' hands came up to either side of the agent's face. “Tony, it's okay...We're gonna get you outta here. You hear me?” For a short moment, faded green eyes met his, and then lolled back into his head. “Tony, stay with me! Ziva, McGee, help me get these ropes off him!” he stripped himself of his jacket and threw it across the back of a nearby chair.  
They were quick to comply, each pulling out their knives and being careful not to further harm his raw, bloody wrists. Neither of them missed the rows of track marks up and down his arms. Gibbs secured his arms around Tony's torso, letting the agent's head lay on his shoulder, and they lowered his arms, slowly. The movement caused Tony to be pulled violently back into consciousness, and he cried out against the pain.  
“It's okay,” Gibbs soothed as he supported Tony's full weight, which didn't amount to much at the moment. “It's okay; we've got you.” Tim and Ziva had taken to very slowly lowering his arms the rest of the way, avoiding him any more pain than necessary.   
“I can hear the chopper, Boss,” Tim nearly whispered.  
“Ziva, go,” Gibbs directed. “Lead them in.” She nodded, hesitant to leave Tony, but aware of the importance to do so. “McGee, my jacket,” he motioned with his head toward the chair. That's when the younger agent realized that Tony was shaking. He quickly moved to grab the garment and wrapped it around Tony's back, holding it there until Gibbs could rearrange his arms to hold it on. “We need to move him. Need to lay him down and I can't do that over here.”  
McGee's gaze dropped to the bloody, urine-stained floor beneath them and understood immediately. “Do you need me to...”  
“I've got him. Just need direction.”  
“Okay,” as Tim moved forward, he realized his legs were shaking. But he made great effort to ignore it. “Over here, Boss,” he indicated a clear patch of floor closer to the door. Gibbs moved to it and slowly lowered himself down, cradling Tony in his arms with Tim's help. McGee shed himself of his own coat and draped it over Tony's front.  
Tony wrapped his arms around himself, curling in tightly as if to make up for all the forced time stretched out.   
“Boss, I think he might be severely dehydrated,” Tim said. “The...dark circles around his eyes...”  
“He's been here alone for three days, McGee. Think it's safe to say you're right.” Gibbs looked back down at the agent in his arms. “Tony, can you hear me?” Tony's head turned slightly towards the voice, and his eyes moved unfocused, reminding Gibbs of when Kelly was a newborn and couldn't quite understand what she was seeing. “Think that's a yes. Sorry it took so long, DiNozzo. But we're gettin' you outta here now. You're gonna be okay.”  
They heard movement in the hall and saw beams from flashlights before medics poured into the room. Before he knew what was happening, Tony was being pulled from his arms and Gibbs was being shoved aside so they could get the agent on a modified stretcher as they checked his vitals. The stretcher was designed to hold the patient vertically for pulling them out of the confined exit up to the ground level.   
As soon as Tony had been torn from Gibbs, he began to make high-pitched sounds that could only be translated as fear, and began struggling against the restraints of the stretcher.   
Gibbs fought his way through the medics to take Tony's hand in his and leaned down to the agent's ear, “It's alright, Tony. These people are here to help you. I won't let anyone hurt you again. You're safe now. You're gonna be okay, I promise you...”  
Tony was shaking, but he stopped struggling when Gibbs spoke. The medics, who earlier had been annoyed by the lead agent's intrusion, were surprised and grateful for the man's efforts. But no sooner had he calmed, that Tony began seizing without warning.  
Gibbs was pushed aside again; his grip on Tony's hand slipping away as the medics shouted to one another with medical lingo he didn't even begin to try to understand. The things he had picked up, were things they'd already assumed, like 'severe dehydration' and 'malnutrition'. After stopping the seizure with an injection, they started IV fluids and made to move him out.  
Gibbs turned to McGee, who was looking pale and zoned out. “I'm goin' with him,” he told the agent. McGee looked at him. “You good to drive?”  
“Yes, Boss,” he replied in barely a whisper.  
Gibbs put a hand on Tim's arm, “You sure?” Tim nodded. “I'm gonna have them bring him to Bethesda. You and Ziva stay with Duck; I want verification that the body in the yard belongs to Cullen,” he told him as they followed behind the medics. “Then you tell Fornell to get his team over here and run this scene. I wanna know what went on in this room, and the only one, besides Tony, who knows that right now is buried,” he said as he fished out his keys and handed them to Tim. “You tell Fornell, if he scratches my car, I'll have his neck.”  
“Boss, you'll let us know...?”  
“Soon as I do...”

11 00 11 00 11

“Jesus H.,” one of the agents cursed as they entered the rank area where Tony had been discovered.  
“Watch your mouth, Pete,” another agent warned.  
“Shut up, Matthews,” he smirked. “Don't be a dick. This place is just...I dunno. Never found where he'd tortured 'em before.”  
“This probably ain't the place he did the other two, Jeffries,” Matthews said as he began snapping pictures. “I doubt he drove 'em out to Berkley an' Norfolk just to drop 'em off on the side of the road.”  
“Why the hell not? Sure as shit threw us off, anyway.”  
“Only way to find out is to process this room top to bottom,” Fornell's voice sounded as he entered.   
“Right, Sir,” the two answered in unison.   
“This is where they find DiNozzo, right?” Matthews asked, motioning toward the ropes still hanging in the chainlinks in the wall. Fornell nodded, narrowing his eyes as he approached, getting his first look at it himself. “He was here for 33 days?” he asked as he snapped pictures.  
“That's right,” Tobias replied. “The last three he spent alone.”  
“Yeah, I heard Cullen killed his brother and didn't even realize DiNozzo was still alive here,” Jeffries said. “Frickin' prick probably did him a favor though, seein' what he did to those other two.”  
“Did they uh...” Matthews turned to Tobias with a grimace, “Did they say what condition DiNozzo was in? What Cullen might've done to him while he was here?”  
“Won't know until the docs can do a full examination. But from what Gibbs' team told me, he looked like he'd been starved nearly to death. Track marks up and down his arms. And from bein' here three days alone, obviously dehydrated. He was too grimy to tell anything else at the time.”  
“Check this out,” Jeffries pointed to a brown, faded music box before snapping a picture. He opened its lid, and there was a little, worn figurine of a bear twirling around slowly as a tune began to play. “Creepy,” he said as the aged contraption caused the notes to play in a key that was semitone to the original, making it sound like something out of a bad horror film. “Why would Cullen have this?”   
Fornell focused on the music box and became lost in thought. Something just didn't feel right about it...

28 days ago...

Tony was pulled from a drug induced sleep by the familiar sound of Cullen winding the music box and setting it on the table. The song began to play in all its eery glory, and Cullen sang along with it as he wandered the room...  
“If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go down to the woods today, you'd better go in disguise.”  
“Look...Cullen...” Tony pleaded weakly, pulling against the ropes that held him to the wall. “I remember now, okay? I remember who you are. But you were cleared. I don't understand why you're doing this...”  
Cullen ignored him, continuing to sing, “For every bear that ever there was will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.”   
“Why are you doing this?” Tony nearly whined. “Why are you keeping me here? I don't understand...”  
“Ssshhhh...” Cullen approached him with a syringe. “It's time for the teddybear picnic, Anthony. If you want to play, you need to be a good little boy...”  
“Nonono...no more drugs...please...” he let out a yelp as Cullen stuck the needle into his arm and emptied the contents with a push of the plunger.  
As Tony's head began to loll, and his pleas to slur, Cullen continued to sing, “Every teddy bear who's been good is sure of a treat today. There's lots of marvelous things to eat and wonderful games to play...”

Present time...

Gibbs glanced at his watch for the hundredth time since they'd landed at Bethesda. It had been over two hours since they wheeled Tony off on the gurney into the E.R. Without Ducky here, there was really no way to get information sooner than simply waiting for someone to come out and bring him up to speed. Tony had remained unconscious the entire trip in the chopper, and Gibbs had no idea whether or not the agent would survive whatever Cullen had put him through.   
He leaned his head back against the wall behind his seat and closed his eyes. The feeling he'd gotten when he discovered Tony in that room washed over him again. He couldn't erase the gruesome images of his agent; his friend... And he hadn't allowed himself to analyze any of it yet.  
But now, there was nothing else he could do. Gibbs thought about the track marks on Tony's arms. His arms were the only part of him that seemed somewhat clean, aside from those marks and the sickly raw condition of his wrists from the rope. The rest of him looked as if Cullen might have hosed him down a time or two, but remained dust and dirt covered like the floor of that room, which led him to believe that he hadn't always simply been tied up there 24/7.   
From the stubble on his face, it seemed as though Cullen had shaved him. Probably regularly, up until he stopped coming back, of course. And his hair had been kept a similar length as when he'd last seen him. Chances were, Cullen had done all of that so the identity wouldn't be mistaken or slowed to verify once he dumped the body...had he had the chance.  
Aside from how thin Tony had appeared, perhaps it was his eyes that had worried Gibbs the most. He'd never seen that spark Tony had always had seem so lost and far away, since he'd known him. Sure, he'd seen it dim a bit in hard times. But Tony's eyes told a quiet story of pain and defeat; of loss and resignation...   
Gibbs was pulled from his thoughts when his cell rang in his pocket. He hurriedly picked it up, “Gibbs.”  
“Jethro,” Ducky's voice sounded on the other line. “Abigail and I have determined that the body exhumed in Cullen's backyard was, indeed, one of the Cullen brothers. I find this whole 'switch-a-roo' ordeal rather confusing, what with their DNA showing in the system as their alias's DNA. Ziva is interrogating Shaun now. How is Anthony?”  
“No word yet, Duck. If you're done there-”  
“I'll leave now. I'll bring you coffee and a bit of something to eat.”  
“Not hungry. Not even sure I can take coffee right now.”  
“You'll at least try. I'll see you shortly, Jethro,” the call ended.


	5. Chapter 5

“...If you go down to the woods today, you'd better not go alone...” Cullen's eery voice sounded through the haze Tony felt as he was moved. “It's lovely down in the woods today, but safer to stay at home.” He couldn't move; whatever he'd been given had paralyzed him and he was, quite literally, a play thing for Cullen to pose. “For every bear that ever there was will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.”   
Tony was moved to a chair at the table and secured around his torso with a belt as nothing more than a support to keep him upright. Cullen placed Tony's arms on the table on either side of a porcelain cup, pushed the chair in a bit, then sat down in another chair at the table.  
That's when it hit him; the faint smell of some kind of food. Since he'd been there, Cullen had only given him some kind of cold broth once a day. Or...for what felt like a day, anyway. There was really no way to tell except that it seemed the man came each day...  
Tony's mouth began to water as the biscuits were pulled from a paper bag and set on a plate in the middle of the table. But with his inability to swallow, at the moment, the saliva instead dripped from his mouth down his chin.  
“Now, Anthony,” the creepy man said as he swabbed Tony's chin with a napkin. “It's impolite to drool at the table.” A smile crossed his face when he made the connection of why his captive was drooling. “If you'd have been a good boy, you wouldn't have been so heavily medicated. And then you could've joined us for a biscuit.” He turned his head to the empty chair across from him, “Isn't that right, 'Lissa?”  
“You're out of your mind,” Tony tried to say, but it came out as more of a moan.   
Cullen poured amber liquid into his own cup, and then the one across from him, and began to sing along with the music box again. “Picnic time for teddy bears. The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today. Watch them, catch them unawares and see them picnic on their holiday...”  
'Please get me outta here, Boss,' Tony thought as he closed his eyes. 'Whatever I did to piss you off, I promise never to do it again...'

Present Time...

“Still no word?” Gibbs looked up at the sound of Ducky's voice. The doctor stood there before him with a cup of coffee held out in his direction. He shook his head and took the offered cup as Ducky took a seat beside him for a moment. “Timothy told me how Anthony was found,” he said. “That he looked as if you'd been too late.”  
“We were too late, Ducky,” Gibbs said in barely a whisper.  
“That's not true, Jethro. From what I hear, you found him just in time,” he reassured. But Gibbs dropped his chin and shook his head. Ducky took a breath, deciding to take the conversation in a different direction. “I went over the autopsy results Fornell's team sent over to me from the other victims. But, for the life of me, I cannot seem to make sense of Cullen's actions. His victims all lived in Peoria in the same time-frame that Anthony had, so I can only assume this had something to do with his brief arrest... But there's no obvious logical reasoning for the acts of violence he's performed. His methods of torture, I can only assume, were possibly a bit different due to the gender of the victim. Madness, with or without cause, almost always holds some methodical pattern...”  
“We're missing something, I know, Duck. But right now, I'm more concerned about Tony,” he met his eyes and Ducky could see the silent pleading in them.  
“I'll see what I can find out, my friend,” he stood and gave Gibbs' shoulder a squeeze before turning to head to the nurses' desk.  
Gibbs watched until Ducky disappeared into the E.R with the nurse, then set his coffee down on the chair beside him and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. His palms dug against his closed eyes, trying to will the ache away that had blossomed in his head.   
Decidedly, he pulled out his phone to make a call...

11 00 11 00 11

“This is no use,” Ziva said as she entered the observation room after trying to interrogate Cullen. “He will not talk.”  
“We should let him sit and stew for a while,” McGee suggested. “That's what Gibbs would do.”  
“Has he called? It has been hours since they got to the hospital...”  
Tim shook his head, “No news is better than bad news, right?”  
“Waiting for news is...infuriating,” she sighed, looking through the glass at the older man.  
“Guys!” Abby's voice sounded as she burst into the room. They turned to look at her. “I found something interesting...”

*~.~*

Abby and Tim stood, observing Ziva as she resumed the interrogation. But McGee could tell that the forensic goth to his right was anxious as she fiddled with one of her pigtails. He tried to ignore it.  
“Have you heard from Gibbs yet?” she asked, ultimately ruining the agent's plan.  
“Not yet.”  
“It's just...I didn't hear much about it. I mean, I know that you all found Tony and that he's alive. But no one's telling me anything more. I saw the autopsy results from the first two victims, McGee. It scares the hell outta me that this guy had Tony...”  
“You read the reports?” Tim turned to face her with a furrowed brow and his arms crossed over his chest.  
“It was my right,” she defended. “I've been digging into both Cullen brothers' pasts for you! You think I could just skip over the gory details?” McGee wanted to argue further, but he saw her point. Resignedly, he turned back to the window. “So are you gonna tell me?”  
“Tell you what?” he asked, flatly, without looking away from the interrogation room.  
“How Tony was. How bad...” her voice drifted.  
McGee clenched his jaw and swallowed; eyes focusing more on just the glass instead of through it. But really, he was thinking of Tony...how they'd found him; how he'd looked before being whisked off in the medevac. “Bad...” he whispered...

*~.~*

“Who is Jessica?” Ziva asked Cullen, already knowing the answer, but wanting to see the reaction from Shaun. She got one.  
His eyes immediately filled with tears before looking down at the table top. “Jess is dead,” he said in a small voice. “She was my niece.”  
“She was eight years old when she died, no?” Ziva asked as she sat back on the table top beside where Shaun was in the chair, so she could face him.  
“Yes,” he sniffled.  
“She died in a house fire?”  
“Why are you asking me about her?” he met her eyes for the first time since they'd been in the room.  
“Because, I want to know, Shaun,” she said, slipping slowly from the table and leaning closer to him. “I want to understand why Michael did what he did. I want to know why my friend is in a hospital right now, fighting for his life. And I think...that you know why your brother was the way he was. You could have stopped him long ago. You should have. And you are just as guilty if my friend dies,” she whispered, knowing that Abby was on the other side of the glass. “You are an accomplice to his kidnapping.”  
“I helped him,” he began, voice cracking, “Because I thought it would make him better once it was finished...”  
“Once what was finished?”  
“The threat of blowing his cover.”  
“For murdering those people?”  
“For Jessica...” he blurted out, almost instantly regretting it.   
Ziva narrowed her eyes and sat up a bit. “For Jessica?”  
Shaun closed his eyes; tears streaking his face as he did so. “He didn't mean it. It wasn't his fault.”  
“Jessica died in a house fire, according to her death certificate,” Ziva cocked her head.  
“Well, I'm Michael, according to your DNA system database,” he looked up at her, accusingly.  
“Are you saying they were mistaken in their findings?”  
“Jessica was sick,” he told her. “Just like Michael. And like our father had been... In his mind, he wasn't right. He self-medicated. The drugs those detectives found, was his medicine. He was so afraid after that...paranoid to get caught again, that he stopped getting them. That's when things started to get worse,” his voice shook as he looked down at the table.  
“Worse, how?”  
Shaun took a breath, “It was his day to see Jessica. Jess loved tea-parties,” he smiled fondly at the memory of her. “Or...as she called them, 'picnics'. Though they were really more of a tea, since they'd be at the table. Michael got her a music box for her fifth birthday and it played the Teddybear Picnic tune. She loved it so...and since then, all tea-parties were picnics. Michael went to have a picnic with her and her bears that day...” his smile faded into a frown. “He said she'd become frustrated about...the cookies, or something,” he shook his head. “She was screaming and wouldn't stop thrashing out at him. And without his medicine, he lost control of himself...” he began to sob.   
“Shaun, are you trying to tell me that your brother killed Jessica?” Ziva asked in a calm, but firm voice.  
“As far as we were concerned, those detectives, killed Jessica!” he shouted, banging his foot on the floor for emphasis. “We had to burn the house...” he began sobbing again.  
“To cover up the murder. Did you not love your niece?”  
“Of course I did,” he met her eyes again. “But I loved my brother... I'd have done anything...”  
“Your brother was sick,” she reminded him. “If you really had loved him, you would have gotten him help; not assisted in his madness.”  
Shaun shook his head and pursed his lips in a grim, sad smile. “Some people can't be helped, Agent David. People like Michael. People like me...”  
“You were living a normal life for years,” Ziva reminded him.   
“A normal life,” he laughed. “With my brother's name...and a time-bomb ticking down to the inevitable, as you saw.”  
Ziva stood there for a moment before turning to the mirror...

*~.~*

McGee's cell rang and he hurriedly picked it up to answer. “Agent McGee.” He paused as the person on the other line spoke. “Actually, yeah, Boss,” he replied and Abby turned to face him at the mention of Gibbs being the caller. “Abby found out Michael had a daughter, and Ziva just got Shaun to confess that Michael accidentally killed her back right after the drug bust. But he said they both blamed the people involved in the case...since he was too paranoid to continue self-medicating with God knows what all he'd been taking.” He paused again, Abby bouncing anxiously awaiting the question they both wanted to ask. Tim held up his finger to get her to calm down for a moment. “Boss, I know you said you'd call when you knew-” he was clearly interrupted as he stopped mid-sentence. “Right, Boss. Yeah, Fornell should be on his way here now with the report. I'll let you know as soon as-” he stopped as Gibbs spoke over him again. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.” The call ended and Tim shut the phone.  
“McGee!” Abby protested.  
“There's no news yet, Abby,” he said as he put his phone away again.   
Her eyebrows rose worriedly, portraying the concern they both felt at how long it seemed to be taking to hear anything...

 

11 00 11 00 11

Twenty minutes after going in, Ducky came back through the doors toward an anxious, impatient Jethro Gibbs. “I'm sorry it took so long,” Ducky said, conspicuously tilting his head a bit to the ground as he approached. “I needed a moment...”  
Gibbs stood and furrowed a brow, “Duck?” It worried him that the doctor sounded a bit hoarse.  
When the doctor looked up at him, Gibbs grew even more concerned. Ducky's eyes were red-rimmed as if his discussion with the doctors had been emotionally difficult...and to the point that Ducky, of all people, had been effected.   
“Ducky, don't tell me we lost him...”  
“No no, Jethro...” he shook his head and sat himself down in one of the chairs. Gibbs sat down again beside him, sighing with a bit of relief. “They're not sure of everything that was done to Anthony yet. But what they have found thus far...” Ducky looked around the waiting room, verifying they were alone before continuing. “They found traces of a drug called succinylcholine. Enough to indicate it had been used on several occasions, if the track marks weren't any indication.”  
“What is that?”  
“A paralytic drug sometimes used in conjunction with anesthesia. But there were no traces of that in his system, which means Cullen wanted him aware, but unable to move.”   
“He had him tied to a wall, Duck! Why the hell would he need to give him that?”  
“I don't have the answer to that question, although I'd surmise he hadn't been tied there for the entirety of his captivity.”  
“What else did they find?”  
“They're running more blood tests to see if any other drugs were given to him. They've done MRI's to search for any internal damage, but so far haven't seen any broken bones or hemorrhaging. Of course, with the level of malnutrition and dehydration he was brought in with, they'll be monitoring his heart, liver and kidneys as they give him intravenous liquids. He hasn't regained consciousness, Jethro. That much we're also concerned about. They've placed a feeding tube in which they'll need to slowly reintroduce nutrition to his body.”  
“What aren't you tellin' me, Ducky?” he asked in a low voice.  
Ducky side-glanced at him with a slight frown. After taking a breath and letting it out, he turned to his friend. “They can't be certain...but after telling them of the previous male victim's abuse, they gave Tony a specific examination. They said that it's possible that he was sexually assaulted...” Gibbs closed his eyes and swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “If it happened, it happened earlier on in his captivity.”  
“How did they come to that conclusion?” he asked in barely a whisper. “That it's possible he might have been...”  
“There are signs of...trauma, indicating possible penetration. But, as with the previous victim, Cullen was sure to clean up afterward, making it impossible to know what he might have used...”  
“What else could it have been, Duck?” he shook his head, still swallowing against the bile. “God...damnit-” he pushed up out of the chair and bolted toward the trashcan before vomiting whatever coffee he'd managed to drink while waiting...  
“Now, Jethro,” Ducky was quickly at his side, laying a hand on his back. “It may not be what it seems. He may not have been hurt in that way, it's just simply a possibility. The trauma could've been from something else. They said his esophagus showed signs of severe irritation. He might have been given food that was drugged or spoiled, causing him severe gastrointestinal distress. It could've exited, unfortunately, on either end. And had it been done over a long period of time, it could have caused similar trauma...”  
“Why would he continue to eat poisoned food, Duck?” he asked, leaning over the can still.  
“He might have been forced,” he suggested. “Or, and more likely, he could've been desperate to eat something...”

25 days ago...

“Please, Sir,” Tony begged from his seat at the table. “I've been good. Can I please have a biscuit?”  
“You have been good today, Anthony,” Cullen said as he fetched a biscuit from the plate. “I can't untie your hands, so you'll have to be creative...” he placed the biscuit on the table in front of him.  
“Thank you...thank you, Sir,” Tony lowered his face to the table top and bit into the biscuit. He hadn't been allowed to eat since he'd been taken. The biscuit was stale and tasteless, but the compulsion to chew and swallow something overrode those factors.   
As Tony ate, Cullen grinned and stood from the table, making his way to the music box to rewind it again. As the tune began to play, he turned, “Where was I? Oh yes... Beneath the trees where nobody sees, they'll hide and seek as long as they please. 'Cause that's the way the teddy bears have their picnic...”  
No sooner did Tony finish the biscuit, licking the crumbs from the table, did his stomach begin to grumble and churn violently. “What...what was in it?” he asked in barely a whisper.  
“Excuse me?” Cullen narrowed his eyes.  
“The biscuit...what was in it? I feel...sick...”  
“I give you food, and you're complaining already?” his snake-like voice made something twinge in Tony's skull.  
“No...no, I'm sorry, Sir. It's just...I don't feel well...” he started to shake.  
“Perhaps it's time to go back to the wall...”  
“No..”  
“Yes.”  
“No, please, Sir...I don't like the wall...” he said weakly, then the wave of nausea crashed over him and forced his meager meal up and out over the table.  
“Look what you've done!” Cullen growled, angrily as he stalked toward Tony, yanking him from the chair before thrusting him back to his spot on the wall. “Now I'll have to clean it up!”  
“I'm sorry...I didn't...mean to...” he was out of breath; weak; slowly slipping into blissful unconsciousness...

Present Time...

“Did you see him, Duck?” Gibbs asked, straightening from the trashcan and looking at his friend.  
“I did. He looks...frightfully pale and thin, but you've already seen as much.”  
“Can I see him? Is he stable?”  
Ducky nodded. “I'll take you to his room.”


	6. Chapter 6

Doctor Mallard returned to NCIS at Gibbs' request, to let the team know how Tony was doing. The M.E pondered exactly what and how he would fill them in, as he drove. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Gibbs; his dear friend's face when they'd entered Tony's room at the hospital. He knew what guilt looked like on Jethro Gibbs, and there was no hiding it in that moment; guilt and anger toward himself, and anguish for their friend that lay in the bed, sleeping still.  
Ducky shook his head to clear that thought as he pulled up to the Navy Yard gate. Receiving a nod from the guard, he continued on through and made his way to parking.   
He seemed to be on auto-pilot, and time seemed to skip ahead, where it found him exiting the elevator and heading toward the bullpen. He'd expected them to be there, and they were. Tim, Ziva and Abby, all surrounding the big screen that showed the picture of a young girl and another showing the Cullen brothers. They were talking, but of what, he couldn't quite tell.  
Ziva was the first to turn and see the doctor standing there outside the bullpen. “Ducky,” she greeted, turning her body to face him, and took a few steps in his direction. The others turned at his name.  
“Did you see Tony?” McGee asked as they stepped toward him.  
“I did, in fact. That's why I've come to speak to you,” he told them. His gaze wandered to the picture on the screen and a morbid thought played in his head; one he couldn't very well ignore.   
“Ducky, what's wrong?” Abby stepped closer, eyes reddening, expecting the worst news.  
“My dear,” he put a hand on her arm and gave her a reassuring little smile. “Just a thought I need to look into. If you all wouldn't mind accompanying me downstairs, I'll fill you in on the way.”  
McGee and Ziva shared quick glances before following behind Abby and Ducky. As they boarded the elevator, Abby grew impatient. “Ducky, how is he? Did you see him? Did you talk to him? Is he okay?”  
“Now, Abigail,” he said in a calming voice. “I did see Anthony and spoke with the doctors that are treating him. But he hasn't regained consciousness at all since he's been in their care.” He proceeded to tell them what he'd told Gibbs, with the exception of possibilities that had not yet been proven. And they were in autopsy half-way through the details; Jimmy Palmer listening from where he stood, cleaning one of the cold tables. “Jethro doesn't want the lad to be without one of us at all times, until he's well enough, at least.”  
“How long do you think that'll be?” McGee asked.  
“Well, we won't know for certain until he wakes. But I do fear that, whatever physical injuries he acquired during his captivity will pale in comparison to the psychological repercussions. And whatever happened in that room will remain a mystery until Anthony is able to tell.”  
“We might be able to help with some of it,” Agent Fornell's voice sounded as the doors hissed open. They all turned around to see him as he entered. “I've got a report for Gibbs on the processed scene. I take it he's still with DiNozzo?”  
“Uh, yeah,” McGee replied. “He asked me to bring him the report once you came by.”  
“If you don't mind,” Ducky reached for the file in Fornell's hand, “I'd like to take a look at it. I had a thought about our deceased Cullen.” Fornell handed him the file and Ducky turned his head to find the whereabouts of his assistant. “Jimmy, if you would, please, retrieve Cullen from the cooler; I need to check something,” he told him before opening the folder and moving to his desk light. He skimmed through the various pages and pictures, grimacing at the sight of where they'd cut Tony down from the wall. Then he stopped short at the next one. He flinched and neither agent missed it.  
“What is it, Ducky?” Ziva asked.  
He chose not to reply to her, but looked up at Fornell, “Where was this?”  
Fornell walked to him and looked down at the picture. “In a cabinet along the wall. Had connectors to allow it to be hooked up to the generator. We took a guess as to what it might be, but I have my agents looking into it.”  
“No need,” Ducky said. “I know what this is...and what the bastard undoubtedly used it for.” He turned to McGee, “Timothy, I need you to take this to Jethro straight away.”  
“Is this...what I think it is?” he asked, looking from the picture to the doctor. “Do you think Cullen used this on Tony?”   
“It's an unfortunate possibility,” Ducky replied. “Please be sure Anthony's doctors are made aware...” McGee nodded and hurried out of autopsy, followed eagerly by Ziva and Abby who insisted on further interpretation.   
Fornell watched Ducky as he made his way to the table where Palmer had placed Cullen's body. Ducky slipped on a pair of gloves.  
“What is it, exactly, that you thought about Cullen?” the agent asked as he stepped a bit closer to them.  
“The previous male victim,” Ducky replied as he prepared to examine the body. “Your medical examiner found evidence of forced sodomy. Yet the female had not been attacked in such a manner. I was curious as to why Cullen did this. Then I had a thought; what if Cullen wasn't the only monster in this? Perhaps he was also a victim... Mr. Palmer,” he said, turning back toward the body, “If you would, help me to turn him around onto his front.”  
“You think someone was sexually abusing him?” Fornell inquired.  
“Seeing that this man was driven completely by a deranged and misdirected sense of retaliation, I do believe it's a possibility, yes.”  
“I'll step out for this,” Fornell said, turning away. “But keep me informed, if you will, Dr. Mallard.”  
Once the door hissed closed behind Tobias, Jimmy looked up at his mentor, “Dr. Mallard, do you suppose it would be alright to go and visit Agent DiNozzo later on...after we're finished for the day?”  
“Even if Anthony should regain consciousness today, I don't believe he'll be ready for many visitors quite so soon, Jimmy.”  
“I- I don't...what I mean to say is...I guess I just wanted to see him. It's been so long...I just want to see that he's really...alive,” he furrowed his brow.   
Ducky looked up at the lad in contemplation and understanding. “Well, I don't suppose it would do any harm. And I know Abigail is undoubtedly waiting impatiently to see him, herself. Perhaps the two of you, once Agent McGee returns, can go there during your lunch hour. If for nothing else, Agent Gibbs will need to be convinced to eat something...”

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs sat in the chair beside Tony's bed awaiting a nurse to return. He had another question; he hadn't seen the bandage on the back of Tony's neck before he'd sat down earlier.   
The questions he had asked, the extent of the rope burns at his now-bandaged wrists, to which he was told they were so badly torn, they had to stitch him up immediately after removing the rope. That fact made him grateful that they hadn't thought to unbind his wrists completely while they were still in that room...  
And the other question was to inquire as to whether or not they found anymore drugs in his system. The nurse had responded with something like, 'Still waiting on results from pathology', but that there had probably been sedatives used.  
So now he waited; frustrated curiosity beginning to boil in him. He looked over his friend; the fact that they'd shaved his stubble for the purpose of cleaning and treating some minor flesh wounds along his jawline. A feeding tube ran from his nose, down the front of him a bit, then off to a machine beside the very machine that continuously beeped in soft tones, telling him his agent was still alive; heart still beating; lungs still processing oxygen. But still, Tony slept. Didn't even flinch when the nurses came in to do this and that.   
One of the nurses had told him that it was probably something to do with the level of dehydration he'd come in with, or the malnutrition, or the seizure. Though the MRI didn't show any obvious reason to make them believe he had a trauma to the brain. No matter their explanations, Gibbs didn't like the fact that the agent hadn't woken, even once.  
A female nurse walked into the room with a fresh IV bag and gave Gibbs a small smile before heading over toward the IV pole. He'd seen her once before, but hadn't yet bombarded her with any questions, so he had no ill feelings about asking her now. “Can you tell me what the bandage on the back of his neck is for?”  
“Back of his neck?” she glanced down at Tony before looking back up at what she was doing with the IV tubing. “Oh yeah. I was attending when he was brought into the E.R earlier. There was a wound that'd been crudely patched up when he was in captivity. A similar one on his right upper inner thigh.”  
“What kind of wounds?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.  
“Uh...” she sighed as she tried to recall what the doctor had said. “I believe the doctor said they were both about three-inch long gashes, made with a knife of some kind. But that it looked like they'd been poked and prodded, as if someone were purposefully digging around in them,” she grimaced. “Somehow, they managed not to get infected...”

19 days ago...

“Does anyone know where you are?” Cullen asked, eyes wild and angry.  
“What?” Tony knew this look. It was a bit frightening, because he'd only seen it once before on this man, and it didn't go over very well then...  
“Can they find you? You have a tracking device, don't you?!”  
“A tracking... Sir, I have nothing like that. Nothing, I swear to you... Search my clothes if you want, but you won't find anything. If I'd have had something like that, they would've found me by now.”  
Cullen considered his words for a long moment as he stood there in front of him. But then his face scrunched up and his shook his head. “No...I don't believe you! They could be able to find you before I'm finished!” He unchained Tony's hands from the wall and let him drop to the floor before tearing off his shirt. “There could be an implant,” Cullen said.  
“A what? Sir, this isn't The X Files! There's not a chip in the back of my neck or anything!”  
“Your neck...” Cullen thought for a moment, then turned to open the cabinet beside them. Tony's eyes widened. He knew what things Cullen kept in that cabinet, and there was no use pretending it didn't scare the hell out of him.   
For a moment, Tony realized he was essentially free. He wasn't tethered to the wall and he could run out that door while Cullen wasn't looking. But try as he might, he was too weak to even lift himself off of the floor.   
Cullen turned around to step back toward Tony, and Tony caught a glimpse of what he'd picked up; his knife. Tony's belt-knife, of all things. He cursed himself under his breath for having said anything about a chip, and attempted to scoot away from the man. “Please, Sir... I promise you there's nothing there...”  
“That's exactly what you'd say if there was something to hide,” Cullen said, twisting Tony around so he was on his stomach.   
Ashamed of his own weakness, Tony clamped his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable. When it came, he held the scream down to a dull groan as the burning sensation the blade made across the skin of his neck. But that was nothing, in comparison to the man's fingers rooting around inside of the wound in search of what the lunatic deluded would be a tracking device. “Stop! Please stop...” he cried.  
“Turn over,” he commanded after pulling his hand away from the wound.  
“I...I can't,” Tony barely whispered. Cullen grunted and roughly flipped him onto his back, yanking Tony's pants off of him. “Wait,” Tony panicked, suddenly realizing he couldn't really move much at all anymore. It was as if the man had given him more of the paralyzing drug. Cullen pushed open Tony's legs and gripped his thigh with one hand as he brought the knife up. “Nononono...” Tony protested. But the blade continued, meeting the sensitive skin of his inner thigh before digging mercilessly into it. Tony arched his head back, gritted his teeth and screamed...

Present Time...

“Agent Gibbs?” the nurse was in front of him now and he blinked and looked up at her. “Are you alright? You kinda zoned out there for a moment.”  
“Fine. Just need coffee,” he replied.  
“The cafeteria is on the-”  
“No,” he interrupted. “Not leavin' him alone.”  
She nodded in understanding and gave him a sad smile. “Well, there's a carafe at the nurses station,” she suggested with a raised brow. “You can see it from here, which means, you can still see the room from there.”  
He gave her a slightly amused expression before leaning sideways a bit to look out the door up the hall. What he hadn't expected to see was one of his agents talking with one of Tony's doctors. Gibbs stood from the chair, glancing down at Tony's still form before heading toward the door.  
“Just tell them Linda said it was okay,” the nurse winked, and he gave her an appreciative nod and continued out.   
“Thank you,” Gibbs heard McGee tell the doctor before turning around toward Tony's room and nearly colliding with Gibbs. “Boss! I was just coming to give this to you,” he said as he handed him the file folder. “Fornell's report from the scene; Ducky said I needed to bring it to you right away and let the doctors know what was found...” Gibbs squinted at him in question. “One of the agents found what looks like an ECT band. It had wires that could hook up to the generator that was in that room. Ducky thinks there's a good chance Cullen used it on Tony.”  
“An ECT band?”   
“Yeah,” Tim opened the folder Gibbs held, to the page with the photograph of the band. “It's used for electroconvulsive therapy. Basically shock therapy, Boss. This band fits around the patient's head and-”  
“He gave DiNozzo electric shock therapy?” The angered tone McGee expected to hear from his boss, came much quieter; accompanied with a troubled look the young agent rarely saw from this man.  
“It's possible,” Tim replied, just as quiet, and he swallowed nervously. His eyes glanced past Gibbs to Tony's room, briefly.   
“What's this mean for him?” Gibbs asked, eyes fixing down at the folder before closing it.  
“Depends how often it was used, which I don't think they would be able to tell,” Tim replied. “But from what I understand about ECT, it can effect memory and emotional states. It's still used today to treat depression, bipolar patients, suicidal patients...all of course with their consent. But if he used this regularly on Tony...” his voice trailed off and Gibbs looked up at him to see that his gaze hit the floor...

19 days ago... 

Tony awoke lying down on his back; something that had never happened before in his captivity. Whatever he was on was hard and uncomfortable, but it wasn't the floor.   
He tried lifting his head to determine where he might be, but he couldn't move. There was no doubt that Cullen had given him the paralyzing drugs again. So he looked up instead. The hanging light bulb told him he was actually on the table. But he didn't understand why...  
Beside him, he heard the unmistakeable clicking of the musicbox being wound up. 'Oh god...no...' he thought as he closed his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest.   
The music began to play, but to his surprise, Cullen wasn't singing along this time. He opened his eyes to see the man come into view above him. “I'm glad you're awake,” Cullen said with a grin. “I think I know how to fix you, now. It'll help you to obey.”  
'Obey?' Tony thought. 'If this guy truly had any idea who I was, he'd realize just how damned much I've been attempting to not piss him off!' And that was true; from the beginning, he'd recognized the true madness that encompassed Cullen. There was no reasoning with him. But there certainly was no antagonizing him, either. He was going to kill Tony; that much was clear. It was just a matter of how long he could endure the torture; how much time he could hold on, to give his team a chance to find him before it was too late... Pissing him off would only bring it faster.  
“We're all set, if you are,” Cullen said, moving out of Tony's line of sight. “Of course, it doesn't really matter if you're ready...” Tony heard the flick of a switch and felt a strange sensation on the top of his head, as though he was wearing a hat that was too tight. And suddenly, there was a tingling pain that shot through his entire body, making his eyes roll back in his head.   
He couldn't yell out for him to stop; couldn't clench his fists or hold his breath against the discomfort; couldn't scream against the pain...  
But he felt the tears as they fell from the outer corners of his eyes and onto the shells of his ears...

Present Time...  
“Tim?”  
McGee looked up at him, “Boss, we won't know until he wakes up.”   
Gibbs nodded, feeling the strong sense to at least seem less worried, for Tim's sake anyway. “Go sit with him for a minute,” he told him. “I need to grab some coffee.”  
“Thanks,” Tim nodded and made his way down the hall to Tony's room.   
Why he expected Tony to look even a little better than how they'd seen him that morning, he didn't know. But that wasn't the case at all. Tony might have been cleaned up a bit, but it only seemed to emphasize how pale and emaciated he'd become over the past month. It highlighted the scrapes and bruises that dotted his torso and arms, and exposed a wound on his jawline McGee hadn't really noticed before.   
Tim swallowed as he approached the bed and slowly sank down into the chair beside it. There had only been one other time he'd entered a hospital room in which Tony was unconscious. That was so long ago, and he hadn't known him as well as he knew him now. So he couldn't place exactly why, out of the many reasons, it seemed so much worse now; their closer bond, the fact that he'd been missing for so long and they'd thought him possibly dead, or the fact that there was sure to be some psychological effects once he did wake.  
“I know Gibbs told you this earlier,” Tim was a bit surprised he'd managed to start talking aloud, “But I really am sorry it took us so long to find you, Tony. I know you're probably scared and confused...” he paused, hoping for some kind of retort from the agent. Knowing Tony, he'd have turned it around on him, saying something along the lines of, 'I don't get scared, Probie. You're the McScaredypants!' And really, he'd be right, because Tim was kind of scared right now. He'd been afraid, like the rest of his team, for over a month. As much as they'd been afraid that they'd lost him, whilest he was missing, they still feared the possibility that they hadn't gotten him back in time... “But we kinda need you to wake up now and let us know you're okay.” He watched Tony's face, trying to will the man to wake by somehow giving him some of his own energy. “That's okay, though...I know you're probably tired; you need your rest. But...please don't make us wait around too long, okay?”  
He was startled by the sudden presence of a doctor that entered the room with a slightly amused smile on his face as he looked at McGee. Tim blushed and stood from the chair looking sheepish. “Don't be so embarrassed,” the doctor let out a small laugh. “You're not technically talking to yourself; he can, most likely, hear you.”  
“Yeah,” McGee looked down a bit, “I heard talking is supposed to help...” he looked back up again, noticing Gibbs had followed the doctor into the room; fresh cup of coffee in hand. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if Gibbs had been talking to Tony as well. “I wasn't sure whether or not you could tell about the ECT...”   
“Unfortunately, no,” the doctor told them. “Like you said to Agent Gibbs, here, we won't know much until he wakes up.”  
A sudden quick beeping on the monitors beside the bed alerted them to look over at the patient. Unexpectedly, Tony's eyes were open. Gibbs made his way quickly to Tony's side, setting his coffee down and grabbing the agent's hand cautiously. “Tony?”   
Green eyes met Tim's, then the doctor's, then finally settled on the icy blue eyes that were closest to him. “Tony, are you with us?” Tony's brow furrowed, but then his nodded.  
“Mr. DiNozzo,” the doctor approached his other side. “Do you know where you are?” Tony looked around the room without moving his head, then met the doctor's eyes again and nodded. “Can you tell me?”  
“H-” as soon as the smallest bit of air had escaped his throat, it seemed to seize up and he choked out a cough.  
“Let's try a bit of water, okay?” he held the cup with the straw to his mouth. Tony glanced at it, then up at Gibbs. Deciding it was okay, he looked back at the cup and drew the straw into his mouth before taking a long drink...or rather, drinking the small amount the doctor had put into the cup until there was nothing left. “Let's see how well that stays down before having more, for the time being. Now try again; tell me where we are.”  
Tony cleared his throat before attempting to speak again. “Hospital?” he rasped.  
“Very good. Can you tell me your name?”  
Tony furrowed his brow at the man, as if it was the most ridiculous question imaginable. “Junior,” he replied. “Anthony DiNozzo Jr. My birthday is July 19th...1968,” he told them before looking down at the hand that held his. Tony closed his fingers around that hand and looked up at Gibbs.  
“Tony, do you know who this man is?” the doctor asked. Gibbs looked a bit surprised by the question, but awaited Tony's response.   
Tony's eyes darted back and forth between Gibbs', as if trying to connect the pieces in his head. “He's the nice man that saved me from the bad place,” he said in barely a whisper...


	7. Chapter 7

Where we left off...

“Tony, do you know who this man is?” the doctor asked. Gibbs looked a bit surprised by the question, but awaited Tony's response.   
Tony's eyes darted back and forth between Gibbs', as if trying to connect the pieces in his head. “He's the nice man that saved me from the bad place,” he said in barely a whisper...

And now...

Gibbs tried not to react to Tony's answer, but he felt a pang in his chest as Tony's eyes didn't leave his.  
“Do you remember his name?” the doctor asked. Tony narrowed his eyes, studying Gibbs as he thought.   
Gibbs could see the internal struggle, and noticed right away when the agent's breathing sped up. “It's okay, Tony,” he told him, placing his free hand lightly on top of Tony's head. “Don't have to answer if you're not ready to.”  
“I'm tired,” Tony replied in a small voice.  
“You can go back to sleep,” Gibbs told him, then glanced over at the doctor to verify.  
“Yes, you can rest, Tony,” the doctor assured him. “Either myself or one of the nurses will be back in a while to talk to you. But for now, go ahead and rest; your body needs it.” Tony's eyes had moved away from the doctor and settled on McGee, and the doctor gave Gibbs a small nod and decidedly left the room.  
McGee was going to ask Tony if he recognized him, but the agent's eyes began to slip closed. Gibbs started to straighten, pulling his hand from Tony's head, but Tony jumped and tightened his grip on Gibbs' hand, turning his head to meet Gibbs' eyes again. “Will you stay?” Tony asked. “Please?”  
“Yeah, I'll stay, Tony,” Gibbs assured him with a small smile. “Get some rest.”  
“Thank you,” he said as his eyes drifted closed all the way this time.  
Gibbs slid the chair closer to the bed with his foot, careful not to pull out of Tony's grasp on his hand, then sank down into it.   
“Boss,” McGee whispered and Gibbs met his eyes. “What do I tell the others?”

11 00 11 00 11

“Oh my,” Ducky said after McGee told him of Tony's reaction to the doctor's questions.   
“Amnesia will go away, right?” McGee asked. “I mean...he'll remember eventually? The way he was talking, it was like he was a little kid.”  
“Yes, but it seems as though it might be a bit more involved than amnesia,” he told him. “The fact that he seems to recall being rescued leads me to believe this might be more along the lines of disassociation. In the event of a severe trauma, it's not altogether unlikely that one may 'split away',” he used finger quotations, “To a different and much safer, time in their own life. Which, in this case, seems to be his childhood.”  
“You think he...gave up?” McGee furrowed a brow in a bit of disappointment, but also anger toward the accusation. “Tony doesn't just give up...”  
Ducky to a step toward him in an almost threateningly defensive manner, “Anthony endured tortures we aren't even currently aware the details thereof, for over a month, Timothy. And he survived them, which means he did not 'just give up'. He held on and he kept going the only way he could.” McGee swallowed against his suddenly dry throat as the doctor continued. “Perhaps he might have lost some hope in being found,” he calmed his tone a bit. “Waiting for so long...one can only imagine what he must have been thinking. But regardless of that, he held on; coping in whatever way he could manage. He held on, even when left for dead, when it would've been much easier to simply slip away. So no, Timothy; he did not give up. And given the morbid alternative, we'll take him in whatever state he may be in.”  
“I- I know, Ducky...That's not what I meant!” McGee stumbled over his words, “I didn't think he'd- I mean...that is- I know he...”  
“I know,” Ducky sighed, placing a hand on Tim's arm. “I understand what you meant. Forgive me for lashing my own anxieties out on you, dear boy.”  
“It's not your fault. I shouldn't have said what I did. I swear, everything that comes outta my mouth sometimes... This is why I don't have a girlfriend,” he mumbled.  
Ducky raised an amused brow, “Now, Tim,” he smirked. “I know it's been too long that Tony's been away, when you begin giving yourself the harassment he would normally be firing at you.” He moved toward his desk away from the agent.   
“I think maybe he's just in my head a bit,” Tim smirked, but then his brows furrowed in sudden apprehension. “Just...don't tell that to Abby; she's bound to hook me up to all kinds of machinery and figure out how to get it out and put it back into Tony...”  
Ducky turned to him with a smirk, “It would be amusing if there weren't a high probability of that being true!” He turned back to his desk.  
“Hey, Ducky?” Tim took a few steps toward him. “Before I left earlier, you were going to check something on Cullen.” Ducky straightened. “Did you find anything?”  
The doctor turned to face the agent again. “Well...I suppose you are the agent in charge, at the moment. I uh,” he stepped past McGee toward the nearest cold table where the file lay, “Took into consideration the first male victim found before Anthony. Both victims had been kept for a long period of time and tortured, but in different ways. I took into account the fact that he'd sodomized the male victim, but not the female, and had the thought to examine Cullen a bit more closely.”   
“The male victim,” McGee swallowed compulsively, “Were his injuries...similar to- to Tony's?”  
“Each victim was tortured differently, Tim. But there are some noted similarities. He didn't keep the female as long; and I'm almost positive he simply didn't have the knowledge on how to beat her without killing her that early on. Morbid as it may seem, I'm glad the poor girl didn't have to stick around longer than she did.  
“The male, however, had been tortured in a different manner, and this seems to be where Cullen practiced slowing death. He'd given him very superficial beatings; nothing too harsh as to cause internal bleeding. His eventual cause of death, Cullen decided to drain the blood from the poor lad's body. My guess is that he simply grew tired of him, but there's no telling now,” Ducky finished and opened the file.  
“Tony's injuries were different, right? He was starved; I know that much...”  
“Yes, as was the one similarity he seemed to share with the other male. However, the level of malnutrition in Anthony was far more advanced than in the other victim.”  
“Cullen was learning...”  
“So it would seem... Back to my original point, I thought perhaps Cullen was a victim of some sort of abuse, himself; not that it condones an ounce of his actions... I did an examination, and it seems I was correct in my assumption. There are signs of repeated assault.”  
“Assault as in...”  
“Cullen was being forced into sexual acts, by another man. And I can only presume to know who it could be; the one person he's been in consistent contact with for at least the last couple of months.”  
Tim furrowed a brow and cocked his head as he absorbed what Ducky told him. He blinked a couple of times when he put two and two together, then straightened as he squinted, “Oh...oh ew...”

11 00 11 00 11

“Oh ew!” Abby exclaimed after Tim explained the findings to her and Ziva. “That's his brother! Not to mention, the guy's a nutcase... Are you sure it was him?”   
“Ducky seems to think so,” Tim replied.  
“I should question Shaun again,” Ziva stated. “Perhaps the mental instability extended a bit farther than just to Michael.”  
“Pretty sure that's the case, either way,” Tim said. “But Ducky wants to observe this one. He says we might get a glimpse into the extent of the psychosis that runs in this family; maybe get some answers about why...”

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs sat silently beside Tony's bed; his hand still holding onto his even as Tony's was slack in his sleep. He'd been letting Tony's responses play back in his head for a while now.  
“Junior. Anthony DiNozzo Jr.”   
Junior was what his father had called him; that much Gibbs had surmised. And most likely anyone that had been an associate or family member of theirs.   
“He's the nice man that saved me from the bad place.”  
Tony's voice had seemed so small... The way he'd replied, led them to believe he had somehow reverted into a childlike state of mind. Gibbs hoped Ducky would be back sooner than he'd said he would be; if only for the fact that he wanted to understand why this would happen. He had some idea; Ducky was a talker, and Gibbs had seen his fair share of brutal crimes and interviewed too many victims of them.   
“Gibbs...” He almost thought he'd hallucinated the voice, but the hand in his squeezed, and he looked over at Tony, who was now awake.  
“You remember me?” Gibbs stood and looked into eyes that seemed the slightest bit greener than they were earlier.  
“Sometimes I can see,” he told him. “Sometimes there's a crack open in the window and I can see out.”  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes and lifted Tony's hand so that he could sit down on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?” he asked.  
“When he's not strong enough to keep me locked in, I can see stuff. And I've seen you. You're Gibbs, and I can trust you. You said you wouldn't let anyone hurt me again. You won't let him, right?” his eyes were almost pleading.  
Gibbs felt a tug on his heart; Tony's expression reminding him of that of a scared child. “He can't hurt you again. He's gone and he's not comin' back.” He watched as Tony seemed to relax a bit. “Who keeps you locked in?” he asked.  
“What?”  
“You said someone keeps you locked in. Who?”  
Tony seemed to start to panic; breath speeding up a bit as his eyes darted around on Gibbs' chest. “I...I can't tell you. He'll be angry if I do.”  
“I told you I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, Tony. You said you know you can trust me. You do, don't you?”  
“He won't hurt me,” Tony met his eyes again. “He keeps me safe...”  
“Then why can't you tell me? Why will he be angry?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.  
“Because he doesn't want you to see me,” he looked away, pulling his hand from Gibbs' and crossing his arms over his stomach. “Doesn't want anyone to see me,” he whispered.   
“I don't understand.”  
“He always took care of me...always. He kept me safe, and now he's hiding because of the bad man...” his whispered voice was breaking and Gibbs could see tears forming in his eyes, though he was trying quite hard to hold them at bay.  
“Tony, look at me,” Gibbs said. Tony closed his eyes. “Hey,” he carefully cupped his chin and gently turned his face to look at him and Tony opened his eyes. “I'll keep you safe,” he told him. Tony's breath hitched.   
For a moment, Tony looked as if he were relieved. But it quickly changed to a look of guilt and Gibbs couldn't place why. He looked forward, then; swallowing a couple of times. “I don't feel very good,” he said.  
“What's wrong?” Gibbs stood from the bed.  
“Stomach-” he didn't finish as the involuntary heave began. Gibbs grabbed for a basin, but was a bit late, and the orange liquid that had been delivered via feeding tube ended up down the front of him and in his lap.  
Within moments, a nurse had rushed in to assist, encouraging Tony to breathe slowly through his panic. “I'll get you some more anti-emetic meds, then we'll get you cleaned up,” she told him before leaving with the basin.  
“I'm sorry...” Tony said, tears streaking his cheeks now.  
“You've got nothin' to be sorry for, Tony,” Gibbs told him. “You're sick. You can't help that right now.”  
“I made a mess...I didn't mean to,” his eyes started getting heavy.  
Gibbs sighed and put a hand on his head, brushing comfortingly with his thumb, “It was my fault,” he told him. “I shouldn't have kept askin' you questions you weren't ready to answer.”  
“No, it's not your fault,” he looked tiredly up at him. “I'm not supposed to be here.”  
Gibbs looked at him in question. “Tell me what that means.”  
Tony's face scrunched up and he shook his head, “He's too afraid to come back... The bad man made him hide away and now I don't think he'll ever come out again.” Tears once again fell down his cheeks, but his voice hid any sign that he was crying.  
“Maybe I can find him. Tell me who you're talkin' about, and I'll try to find him, okay?”  
“You can't... You won't find him, Gibbs.”  
“I can try,” he insisted. “Just tell me, please...” he watched as his eyes became heavier and heavier.  
After a few breaths, he replied, “Tony...” and his lids slipped closed.   
Gibbs' eyes darted back and forth as synapses fired around in his brain, putting together what he'd just been told...


	8. Chapter 8

“I told you, I loved my brother,” Shaun told Ziva in the interrogation room. “And he loved me. I didn't assault him. What we did was consensual.”  
“It is a shame we cannot ask him for ourselves,” she replied. “But I do not believe you. I believe you might have thought it was consensual. But I think that he believed a bit differently. Why else would he have sexually assaulted his second victim?”  
“What?” his eyes flashed with disbelief and horror. Then he shook his head, “Michael would never...”  
“Really? You don't believe me?” she opened a case file and showed him the picture of the man Michael had killed. “Do you see this autopsy report? Your brother brutally sodomized this man. If he had been happy with your sexual relationship, tell me, Mr. Cullen; why would he play sexual games with his victims?”  
Cullen looked angry; close to tears, really. “I tried to change him... I tried to make him listen; obey. But he...” Cullen sighed, “No matter what I tried, he kept on...doing these things...”  
“I am curious. What things did you try? To make him obey...”  
“Anything and everything,” he replied. “He didn't want to use the medicines, so I...read some articles; found different methods of treating his...conditions.”  
Ziva stuck out her chin and narrowed her eyes, “ECT?”  
“That one I was sure could help,” he replied. “But it disappeared after the first round. I never found it after that night...”  
“We did,” she retorted, opening the file to the evidence photos and showing it to him. “This device, we found it in the room he'd been holding my partner. We believe he may have used it on him.”  
Cullen cocked his head, “Michael always did want things proven to him before he tried them himself.”  
Ziva slammed her fist on the table, “This is what you have to say in your defense?” Cullen jumped. “You illegally obtained every item your brother used to torture him! And yet you claim to know nothing! I do not believe you for a moment!”

*~.~*

“Think she might be pissed off a little?” McGee asked sarcastically, as he and the M.E observed.  
“Hmm, I do believe this man is a bit delusional to think he had nothing to do with what happened to Anthony,” Ducky said. “Clearly he's been living inside the deluded sense that he could somehow heal his little brother. But at the same time, I can't help but to wonder whether he had something to do with Michael's state of mind in the first place.”

“I want you to start from the beginning,” Ziva's voice sounded from the other room through the speaker. “Everything... You'll tell me everything.”  
“Or what?”  
Ziva leaned in and whispered something in Cullen's ear that caused his eyes to widen in horror.

Tim smirked and turned to Ducky just as the doctor's cell phone began to ring. He fished it from his pocket and look at the I.D. “Ah, it's a call from Bethesda,” he told him. “I'll go out into the hall.”  
McGee nodded and turned back to watch the interrogation as Ducky exited the room.

“Our father died when I was twelve,” Cullen said in a shaky voice. “I took care of Michael. We stayed with our uncle for a while but...he couldn't really handle us...”

“Timothy,” Tim turned toward the door Ducky had cracked open. “I'll watch the tape later. I must go to Bethesda.”  
“Is...is everything alright?”  
“Hm? Oh...Tony's condition hasn't changed. But I'm needed. I'll be back in an hour or so.” Ducky retreated, the door closing behind him, and Tim turned back to face the interrogation once more. But now his mind was only partly paying mind to what was happening in that room...

11 00 11 00 11

As Ducky walked out toward his car, he noticed Abby and Jimmy walking a bit ahead of him, and suddenly remembered Jimmy's earlier request. “Jimmy!” he sped up a bit to catch the two of them as they turned around.  
“Dr. Mallard, are you going to lunch? I thought you were in observation-”  
“There's been a slight change in plans,” he told them. “I'm heading over to Bethesda.”  
“Is it Tony?” Abby raised her brows. “Did something happen? Is he okay?”  
“Physically, nothing has worsened. But Anthony seems to be having a bit of...amnesia, of sorts.”  
“McGee told us,” Abby said. “But sometimes, seeing people you know can trigger memories, right?”  
“I'm afraid it's a bit more than simple amnesia,” Ducky told her. “I don't think it would be wise, at this time, to pay him a visit.”  
“Ducky!” Abby whined. “I just...I need to see him! Even if he's just sleeping when I do. You don't understand...the nightmares...”  
Ducky sighed and put a hand on her shoulder, “I understand, my dear. I just don't believe that seeing him in his current state will bring any peace to your night terrors.”  
“Seeing him breathing will bring peace, Ducky. Please? Pleeeeease?” she begged shamelessly.   
Ducky dropped his hand from her shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. “Two minutes, Abigail. No more!” Abby smiled and jumped up and down. “Jimmy, you'll see to it that she obeys?”  
“Yes, Dr. Mallard.” 

*~.~*

“Yes, this is Dr. Donald Mallard. One of my patients is in ICU room 1012; Anthony DiNozzo Jr. Would it be possible to bring the phone to the room where an Agent Gibbs is undoubtedly unwilling to come out of?”  
“Oh yes; Agent Gibbs,” a small laugh came from the nurse on the other line. “Won't leave the room for a fire, I'd say. I'll bring it in to him, Dr. Mallard.”  
“Thank you, my dear.”  
A few moments passed before he heard Gibbs voice on the other line. “Yeah, Duck?”  
“I thought I'd give you a heads up,” he explained. “Abigail insisted on stopping by for a moment. There was really no talking her out of it, but I did convince her not to stay for more than a couple of minutes.”  
“He just went back to sleep before I called you.”  
“And she assured me that she wouldn't wake him. She only wants to see him, or so that's what she claims. I'm five minutes away, Jethro. They'll be there a minute sooner, I'm sure.”  
“Thanks for the heads up, Duck.”

*~.~*

Abby stood so silently inside of the room, that Gibbs wouldn't have even known she was there had he not looked over toward the door purely out of curiosity. Palmer was standing behind her and off to the side a bit, so he didn't actually see the fact that she was on the verge of tears.  
Gibbs stood and quietly made his way over to her.  
“Ducky was right,” she whispered. Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her, in question. “It's not gonna help my nightmares at all,” she choked on the last word as tears flowed over, and Gibbs drew her into his arms and kissed her head as she buried her face in his shoulder.  
“He's gonna be okay, Abs,” he whispered.   
“Please don't cry,” came a quiet version of Tony's voice, and they all turned to see him awake. “I'm sorry...please don't cry...”  
“Oh, Tony...” Abby pulled away from Gibbs and went to his bedside. “I didn't mean to wake you up,” her voice cracked as she sank carefully onto the side of the bed.  
Tony pushed up with much effort and put his arms around her the best he could manage, “Don't cry...”   
Abby returned the hug, unable to stop the tears at the feeling of his emaciated body under her hands. “It's not your fault I'm crying,” she assured him. “You should lie back down,” she said when she felt him begin to shake from the strain. She gently pulled away, leading him to lie back on the pillows behind him. Once he was settled, she gently brushed the hair from his forehead and gave him a small smile, “Your hair's gotten so long. I like it this way.”  
Tony smiled at her, giving them all a glimpse of the Tony they knew and loved. “You're...” he began, then look up and to the right in deep thought. “You're...Abby.”  
“Yeah, Tony! You remember me... That makes me so happy,” she smiled.  
Tony glanced over at Gibbs who had taken a seat beside the bed again, then back at Abby. “You're his- my friend.”  
“That's right. We're very good friends,” she took his hand. He looked down at it before looking up at her again. “And Jimmy is your friend, too.”  
“Hey, Tony,” he smiled, and Tony considered him for a moment.  
Tony looked up and to the right again, then back at Palmer. “Gremlin,” he smirked.  
“I uh...” Jimmy shrugged, “Guess I'll take what I can get.” Gibbs smirked at that. “But we promised Dr. Mallard we wouldn't stay for longer than a couple of minutes, so we'll have to go for now.”  
“Oh yeah,” Abby sighed. “Gotta keep our promises or we won't be allowed back anytime soon, and we're most definitely coming back to visit you soon,” she told him. She leaned down and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He blushed, an almost comedic color. “Get better,” she gave him a small smile before standing and heading toward the door. “See ya, Gibbs.”  
“Bye, Abs,” Gibbs replied and nodded to Palmer as they left. Then he returned his attention to Tony who was looking his way now.   
“She had black fingernails,” he said in a bit of awe.  
“Seemed like you remembered her,” Gibbs wondered aloud.   
“I remembered her pigtails,” he said, raising his brows. “I remember...her, being very sad...” his gaze wandered to the blanket that covered the bottom half of him.  
“Hm,” Gibbs normally would've asked for an elaboration, but settled to remember and ask later. “What about Palmer?” Tony looked at him with a furrowed, questioning brow. “Gremlin,” he smirked.  
“Oh,” he looked off a bit to the right. “I...I'm not really sure. I remember his voice.”  
Gibbs knew that Ducky was standing right outside of the room before the good doctor turned to walk in. “How about him?” Gibbs motioned his head toward the door and Tony turned his head as Ducky walked a bit closer to the bed.  
Ducky did his best to try and smile at him, “It's good to see you awake, Anthony. How are you feeling?”  
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, then upon opening them, he said, “Ducky...”  
“Very good, lad,” the doctor gave him a genuine smile.  
“Ducky, I wanna go home now,” he told him.  
Ducky gave a small laugh, “Well, dear boy, you're sounding more like yourself already. But I'm afraid you need to be here for a little while at least. The doctors need to get the bad medicines out of your body and some good nutrients in.”  
“But you're a doctor,” he argued calmly. “You can do it, Ducky. You can do anything!” Gibbs couldn't hold in a grin.  
“Well...not anything. But I do appreciate the vote of confidence.”  
“I'm gonna hit the head,” Gibbs said, standing from his chair.  
Tony's head shot in his direction. “You're...gonna come back, right?” he asked.   
Gibbs patted his leg, “Yeah, I'll be right back, Tony. You can trust Ducky to keep ya safe.”  
Tony glanced skeptically to the doctor then back to Gibbs. “You sure? He doesn't have a gun...”  
“No, he doesn't,” Gibbs smirked, “But he has a helluva batting arm, and that bedpan would make a nice weapon if he needed it.”  
Tony looked over at the bedpan on the side table and considered what Gibbs told him. After a moment, a huge smile broke out on his face and he let out a small laugh as he looked back at Gibbs. Gibbs returned the smile, genuinely feeling a bit of happiness that he could see it again on Tony's face, then gave him a nod before heading to the bathroom.  
“You never told me how you were feeling...” Tony's attention was drawn back to Ducky.  
“I feel...much better than last I remember,” he replied. “Gibbs keeps me safe. If I go home, will Gibbs come with me?”  
“I'm most certain he will consider it,” Ducky patted his hand. “You said you feel better than when you can last remember... Gibbs told me that you remember him rescuing you from the bad place. Do you remember anything about being in the bad place, Anthony?” he asked as he pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. He watched Tony's eyes as they focused somewhere past Ducky. And he could see clearly when they began to redden. Tony nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “If this is too difficult, I don't want you to think about it right now. There's plenty of time after you've gotten a bit better.”  
But Ducky could see that Tony hadn't really heard the statement as the agent's eyes darted about somewhere in the air between them; his breathing picking up a bit as he became lost in a memory...

17 days ago...

He was cold... So very cold. The wall behind him was cold, and the air surrounding him was of no comfort. There was no way to curl into himself and attempt to warm up as he was bound in the stretched position with no give.   
But Cullen hadn't given him any drugs today. He hurt like hell, and he couldn't sleep through it. But he could allow himself to shiver, and he let his body do so. He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open, it was so dark tonight.   
Suddenly, however, he was completely convinced they were, as the generator clicked on and light painfully flooded the room.   
“Ah, Anthony, Anthony,” Cullen sneered as he slithered further into the room. “You must be freezing. It's such a chilly night.” he came to stand right in front of him. “You know what you could do to get a blanket...”  
“No. No, I don't need one,” he shook his head.  
“But you're freezing,” Cullen put a hand on Tony's face and Tony flinched violently away. “That's not very nice, Anthony,” he dropped his hand. “After all I've done for you; trying to make you better...”  
“I wanna go home,” Tony whimpered. “Please, just let me go...”  
“You can't leave. This is your home now. Your home is here with me.”  
“No! No, it's not!”  
“Yes, yes, it is,” he retorted mockingly. “You took my daughter from me; my home; everything! Those...those things are all I want. And YOU OWE ME THOSE THINGS!” he screamed; spittle falling unceremoniously from his lips.  
Tony's face scrunched up, “I didn't take those things from you, Cullen. I didn't-”  
“Yes, you did, Anthony,” he replied calmly, turning away toward the cabinet. “You and the others who worked with you. Now, I won't tolerate your behavior; it's unbecoming,” he said as he turned back to Tony with a syringe in his hand.  
“Please...please no. No more drugs, please, I promise to behave...”  
“It's time for a treatment, Anthony,” he said, plunging the needle into Tony's arm. “It's better that you have this anyway.”   
His body went limp; stopped shivering as the drug took effect, paralyzing him. He felt Cullen take his arms from the chains on the wall and drag him to the table. And he was pretty sure what was going to happen next as the band was fitted around his forehead.   
Tony closed his eyes as the tears came; the only message that his brain could command his body to obey. Then the clicking sound of the switch. Then the pain...

Present Time...

“Anthony!” Ducky's voice couldn't penetrate the completely pensive state Tony had fallen into. But now the agent seemed to be reliving a painful recollection as his muscles tensed and caused him to shake. He seemed to be holding his breath; eyes clenched closed, before he yelled out in an eerie sense of tortured soul.   
“Tony!” Gibbs was at the other side of the bed in an instant, having just gotten back to the room and realized what was happening. His hands went to Tony's upper arms, trying to hold him steady. “Tony, you're okay!” he told him, then bent down to the agent's ear. “You're safe now, Tony. You're not in the bad place; you're safe,” he could feel the intensity of Tony's shaking under his arms, but the yelling had stopped. “I'm not gonna leave you,” he added, and he felt Tony begin to relax beneath him.   
As Gibbs slowly pulled away, he met Tony's eyes. “You were remembering something, weren't you?” he asked quietly.  
For a moment, Tony looked like he might start to cry again, but he closed his eyes and nodded. “I'm tired. I wanna go to sleep.”  
Gibbs put a hand on his forehead and brushed back, “Go to sleep. I'll be here.”  
“Promise?” Tony opened his eyes a crack.  
“I promise, Tony,” he told him. Tony turned onto his side and curled up under the blanket. Within moments, he was fast asleep. And that's when Gibbs looked up at Ducky. It wasn't a glare of aggravation for what had just happened, but rather a glare that demanded answers. He wanted to know what and why....and how to fix it.   
But the unhappy look on Ducky's face didn't give him very much hope...


	9. Chapter 9

“I'm afraid I may be correct in my original assumption,” Ducky told Gibbs quietly where they stood by the window.  
“And what was that?”  
“I believe young Anthony may, in fact, be suffering from disassociation. A sort of dual identity; one of which we're seeing, who seems to be a young boy. As I told Timothy earlier, it's as if he'd mentally gone back to a safer time in his life. Now he seems to be stuck in this persona.”  
“How do we fix that, Duck?”  
“You told me on the phone that he's aware that the adult personality is hiding away. I'm afraid we'll have to wait and hope for an appearance from him before we can get to the root of the problem.” Ducky watched as Gibbs wiped a hand down his face and looked over at the sleeping agent. “You should go home and get some rest, Jethro. You've been awake for days, aside from a brief nap in autopsy.”  
“I'm not leavin' here, Duck, I thought I made that clear,” he glared at him. “I promised him, and I sure as hell don't intend on breakin' it.”  
“Well at least let me bring you something to eat, and perhaps request a cot so that you can get some sleep here.”  
“Hell, I'm not hungry,” he replied. “And I can sleep in the chair just fine, if I have to.”  
“Well,” Ducky sighed, “I know well enough to choose my battles wisely. And I'm most certain that this is one I will not win.”  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him, “You really think it's a wise suggestion for me to go back on my word, Duck? To a child, nonetheless?”  
“Now, I didn't mean that-”  
“It's my fault he's here in the first place. My fault it took so damned long to find him. The least I can do is keep my promise not the leave him.”  
“How in the world is it your fault that it took so long, Jethro?” Ducky asked with squinting eyes that conveyed his confusion at the claim.  
“Thirty-three days,” he replied. “It took me thirty-three days to make the simple connection that Tony was in trouble before he called me.” The look in Gibbs' eyes was one of self-incrimination. “Who am I, Ducky? Who am I? I'm supposed to know these things. I'm supposed to follow my gut and I was too distracted by joggers and coffee to even allow it to tell me something was wrong. And because of that, my senior field agent is locked away inside his own mind. So yeah, Ducky, I'm stayin' here with him while the kid lets me, 'cause God knows if he'll even want anything to do with me once he comes back out.”  
Dr. Mallard looked at Gibbs for a long, contemplative moment; near anger and frustration in the agent's pathetic bout of self-condemnation. “And to think I couldn't have found another similarity between yourself and Anthony.”  
“What are you on about?” his eyes flashed.  
“Blaming yourself for things that were out of your control.”  
“Didn't you hear me, Ducky? I made him drive alone-”  
“Yes, Jethro, I heard you. He was following orders. Much like he was when Jenny was killed. And you recall how he took the blame for that.”  
“That's completely different,” he shook his head.  
“Is it? Do you think Jenny blames Tony for her death?” he asked, and Gibbs looked at him incredulously. “No, I didn't think so. Yet he insisted on taking the blame. He still does, I'm sure, regardless of who tells him otherwise.”  
“Still not seein' the connection, Duck.”  
“Taking on an unnecessary and mortifying responsibility for something that was out of your hands...” Gibbs looked to the floor and shook his head. Ducky continued, “When I looked through the reports on the first two victims, it was obvious that Cullen had been following them around for quite some time prior to taking them.” Gibbs slowly looked back up at him. “With the others, Cullen chose to take them from their homes in the middle of the night; a well thought out plan which included the success of not leaving behind any evidence that could lead back to himself. No doubt he'd planned to do the same with Tony, but saw an opportunity and took it. And because he jumped the gun, you found evidence that led us to him.” Gibbs' eyes darted around in the air between them as he considered that. “Had you not made Anthony ride alone that day, Cullen would've taken him anyway. But the chances of us finding him before it was too late would've been next to nothing.” Gibbs met Ducky's eyes again, then turned to look at the sleeping agent in the bed. “The boy doesn't blame you, Jethro. And I don't believe our Anthony does either.”  
Gibbs pondered that possibility, then shook his head, “You don't know that. He didn't know any of that, Ducky. All he knew was that he was taken and alone... And that I couldn't find him. He hid away before we could. Far as he knows, I never came at all...”

11 00 11 00 11

26 months ago...Horn of Africa...

Hands chained above her head in the stone-walled prison of a room, Ziva stifled a pained grunt when the whip hit her legs again. She refused to give her captor the satisfaction.  
“You try to be so brave, Ziva,” he sneered. “As if someone will come rescue you. But who will come? Tell me this?” he whipped her again. She remained silent. “You abandoned your team from America. They do not even know you are here. Nor do I believe that they would care. And certainly not your father... As if he doesn't know...” he whipped her again.  
“Have you forgotten your native tongue?” Ziva quipped, holding an unaffected expression.   
But her captor merely smiled and branded the whip again, this time mercilessly reigning the lashes down upon her until he was given satisfaction by her screams...

Present time...

“Ziva?” McGee's voice brought her out of her memory and she looked up at the concerned face of her friend who stood in front of her desk. “You okay?”  
She gave him a small grin, “Why would you think I was not?”  
“Well, you're uh... you're...crying,” he said, worriedly.  
Ziva furrowed her brow and brought a hand up to her face. Sure enough, a tear had escaped and cascaded down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I was not crying, McGee,” she insisted. “I have been effected by the sudden change in weather. I believe it is allergies. But thank you for your concern,” she smiled up at him.   
He seemed unconvinced. “You've never had allergies before, in the six years I've known you,” he stated. Seeming unaffected by the accusation, Ziva turned her gaze back to her computer screen. “What're you doing?” Tim asked as he made his way around the desk to look at the screen, which Ziva made no attempt to hide. The screen contained the files on the first two victims, and off to the side, photographs of the scene Fornell's team had processed. “How did you even get this?” he asked.  
“I persuaded Fornell to send it, seeing as the physical copy is with Gibbs. I told him we needed it for the interrogation. For my report...” After a few long moments of silence, she turned her head to look at her friend who wasn't quite focused on the screen anymore, but seemed to be deep in thought. “McGee,” she pulled his attention. He looked over at her and stood up from where he'd originally been leaning on the desk. “You have seen him, yes? He is awake, I heard.”  
“He was awake for a while,” he told her. “His uh...his memory seems to be a bit...off.”  
“Off?” she furrowed a brow. “Amnesia?”  
“Ducky says it's not really that simple. So I'm not really sure. But...he seemed to recognize Gibbs.”  
“Did he not recognize you?”  
“I didn't ask him... He was pretty tired. But the way he was talking, he seemed like a little kid.”  
Ziva considered that for a moment. “Has Ducky returned?”  
“Not yet. But he should be, soon,” he said, glancing at his watch. “It's been over an hour since he left.”  
As if on cue, the elevator pinged and the doctor walked out and toward the bullpen with a preoccupied look on his face. Ziva stood as he approached. “Ducky?” she spoke, a bit concerned.  
He met her eyes, then McGee's. “You'll be here for a bit?” he asked.  
“'Course,” McGee replied, furrowing his brow. “Something wrong?”  
“Ah, no,” he stuttered. “But I must confer with the director for a moment. Then I'll be free to speak with you, if you wouldn't mind meeting me down in my office in...well, hopefully this won't take more than ten minutes.”  
“Certainly, Ducky,” Ziva replied for them. He gave a nod and turned to head for the back elevator to take up to the next level. She turned to Tim, “What do you suppose that was about?”  
“Gibbs probably has him sending Vance a report on Tony's situation, I'm sure.”  
“And he is sending Ducky to do this why?”  
“Probably because he told Tony he'd stay there with him,” he replied. “I think he's still blaming himself for everything that's happened,” his lips pursed.  
“Of course,” she replied, and he furrowed his brow as his eyes met hers. “I blamed him, myself, for a long time.”  
“How could you-”  
“He treated Tony unfairly that day, do you not recall? Making him drive alone to the scene and back. It is then that he had been taken.”  
“But Gibbs couldn't have known!” McGee argued.  
“Of course not, McGee. But it does not change anything. I was still...angry with him.”  
“You never showed it,” he said, more calmly.   
She raised her brows, “What would have been the point? He was angry enough at himself.”  
McGee looked away a bit for a moment. “So, what made you change your mind, then?”  
“I read the reports Fornell sent. The two victims they found had originally disappeared from their homes. Apparently, Cullen had been stalking them; plotting from the beginning, and had planned how to capture them with the same finesse he used in sending the package; no evidence. There was nothing left behind to trace. No way to find them until they were left to be found out in the open.”  
“So...” his eyes darted around as he processed the information, “Cullen must've seen Tony unexpectedly outside of the Simons residence and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. And because it was unplanned, he accidentally left something behind.”  
“Which helped us to find Tony before it was too late,” she finished for him. “And had we not found that evidence, chances are we would never have found him at all. Cullen is dead; Tony would have been left in that room for...” she didn't need to finish.  
“But if Gibbs hadn't been in a mood that day, what you're saying pretty much, is that Tony would be dead.”  
Ziva had an indifferent look on her face, but her eyes flashed something he couldn't interpret. “How could I still blame him, when he had actually saved him?” she said quietly. “And to think...I nearly caused him to change his mind about the ride,” she smiled. But that smile, McGee knew, was to cover up a painful thought. Perhaps she'd learned a bit of something from Tony over the years, after all.  
“No offense, Ziva, but changing Gibbs' mind about something once he's already set it in motion, is pretty slim odds; even if he did know you were right.”   
She smiled at him again, but this time it was genuine. “You know,” she said as she turned back to her desk and closed down the files, “Gibbs has the file there at the hospital. I am sure he will come to the same conclusion about the outcome for the previous victims.”  
“He's Gibbs,” Tim replied. “If there's something to piece together, he'll piece it together.”  
“Yes. Hopefully, he will come to the same conclusions,” she said as she met his eyes again.

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs flipped through the file to the photographs taken at the scene. It made his stomach turn when he looked at the wall where he'd found Tony. The bloody floor beneath it reminded him of how long he'd been hanging there, bleeding from his rope-torn wrists and the gashes in his neck and thigh.  
An open cabinet was in the next picture. Tony's service weapon was inside, along with his belt-knife and the ECT band. A shelf below showed a small tin cup and what looked like a medical first-aid kid. The shelf below that one had a tea set and a plastic bag.  
He flipped to the next page of photos. One showed the open first-aid kit, filled with syringes and little bottles. Close-ups confirmed the paralyzing drug he'd used on Tony, and the sedatives. The plastic bag had what looked like biscuits inside. A note written beside it said that they been dosed with something, and that they were running tests to find out what the substance was.   
One last photo showed a worn, wooden music box. From what Ducky had filled him in on of Cullen's interrogation, he assumed it had probably belonged to Michael's daughter. Why he'd brought it with him to such a dark place, he could only imagine; the tea set and biscuits gave him a churning feeling that the 'picnics' had been reenacted in that room. What role Tony or any of the other victims played in that was vague.   
He reached over to the phone the nurses brought in for him and dialed out.   
“Jethro, what can I do for you?” answered the other line.  
“Tobias, I need you to see if you can arrange to exhume the body of Michael Cullen's daughter...”


	10. Chapter 10

Present time...

“Tony is suffering from what is known as disassociative identity disorder; more popularly known as multiple personality disorder,” Ducky explained to Ziva, McGee, Palmer and Abby. “What has me a bit stumped, is the fact that this identity he's currently experiencing seems very much aware of the other; his true self. And he seems to be able to draw pertinent information from him. For instance, he did recognize Gibbs and myself, and Abigail, and even Mr. Palmer. But for the most part, it seems he can only see fact; a personality profile, if you will. He can feel whether or not our Tony likes the person, and whether or not he trusts them. And he takes it at face value, whatever our Tony may or may not feel about us.”  
“How is it treated?” Ziva asked.  
“Well that's just it,” Ducky shrugged. “Usually, the first step is to make one identity aware of the other. It begins the path of joining the two back together.”  
“Join them together?” Ziva's brow furrowed. “Is this wise? Should this...new identity not be eliminated?”  
“It's not a new identity, my dear. It's simply...split from his own. I can't presume to know the age, but I estimate him to be around ten years old; the identity is Tony's first ten years of life, split off from the rest and personified.”  
“But our Tony hasn't made an appearance yet, right?” Abby asked.   
“He hasn't, as far as we can tell,” Ducky replied. “The boy told Jethro that he was hiding; that he couldn't find him, or he wouldn't come out.”  
“What do we do?” Tim asked. “I mean...how can we help? Can we help?”  
“At this point, I'm not entirely sure,” he replied. “But what we can do in the meantime, is continue to try and find the absolute truth behind the entire mess. Anthony, in either form, trusts Jethro implicitly, and Jethro intends to stay with him for however long he's asked. We must give him that right and take to heart whatever gut feelings he may have when it comes to Anthony's well-being. Even if that requires us to stay away.”  
“We're not allowed back to see Tony?” Abby asked.  
“That's not what I said, Abigail. I meant that if Gibbs tells you it's not time to visit, you need to comply without argument.” He looked over at Ziva and Tim, “But it's also in my opinion as a doctor and a friend, that someone should see to it that he's not neglecting his own health in the meantime. Over the years, Jethro has become privy to premeditate dodging my advice. Maybe hearing it from someone else, or perhaps so much as inconspicuously bringing him something to eat, without prior permission or even asking him in the first place.”  
“I believe I may be able to handle that,” Ziva gave him a small smile. “I have not yet been by to see Tony. Perhaps in a few hours.”  
Any reply was cut off when McGee's cell rang. He moved from the group as he fished it from his pocket and answered. “This is McGee.... Yes, Boss... Okay, sure. No problem... Uh... Well, I can try... I mean- yes, I'll find it, Boss!” After another moment, he pulled the phone from his ear and looked to see that the call had ended, then sheepishly put it back into his pocket.  
“What does Gibbs want you to find?” Ziva asked.  
“He wants us to try and locate the mother of Michael Cullen's deceased daughter,” he told her. “And he's having Fornell attempt to exhume the body of Jessica Cullen.”

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep, when he was suddenly pulled out of it by the soft ringing of the phone beside him. He glanced at Tony, who was still sleeping soundly, before grabbing the receiver and answering. “This is Gibbs.”  
“Got the okay to exhume, Jethro,” Tobias told him. “But not to move the body from the town. You'll have to either trust the M.E up there or send Dr. Mallard.”  
Gibbs rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “I'll talk to Ducky; see what he wants to do. But I guess go ahead and let their guy do it. If he doesn't find the cause of death to be what Cullen told us, we'll take action from there.”  
“Your team have any luck locating the mother?”  
“If they had, I would've heard from 'em.”  
“Your boy doin' okay?”  
“As well as can be expected. Keep me posted, Tobias. And thanks,” he ended the call before Fornell could reply. With a sigh, he turned to glance out the window. It had gotten dark. He glanced at his watch; apparently he'd been asleep for a few hours.  
A rustling from the bed pulled his attention back to Tony. His eyes were squeezed shut and his head shifted back and forth as if flinching away from something. His breathing picked up.  
Gibbs stood and placed a hand on his arm, causing Tony to jerk. Gibbs quickly instead placed his hand on his shoulder, “Tony...”  
“'M sry...'m sry, Boss...w'tever I did...”  
Gibbs' heart clenched, “Tony, you're okay. You're just dreaming, but you're safe now,” he told him, bending down a bit so he could speak softly but still be heard.  
“'ever I did, B'ss, 'm sry...,” his voice broke; face contorting, and a tear escaping. “Please f'nd me...pl's help me...”  
“Tony, you did nothing wrong,” his voice cracked; throat slightly constricting at the confirmation that Tony had, in fact, been thinking that when he'd been trapped there. “You hear me? You did nothing wrong. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me.”  
Tony's face relaxed a bit, but his eyes remained closed and his breaths still came fast. “H'rts, B'ss...”  
Gibbs took the hand from his shoulder and sought out Tony's hand, carefully avoiding the bandages on his wrist, and grasped onto it while pressing the nurse call button with the other. “They'll give you somethin' for the pain, DiNozzo. You just keep talkin' to me. I'm not goin' anywhere.”  
Tony's face scrunched up again and he began to shake his head, “H's g'nna cut me...g'nna use my knife... Oh god...Boss, please help me!” his words became for clear as whatever nightmare began to replay in such clarity, that Tony actually believed it to be happening.  
“Tony, you listen to me! You're not there anymore! You're safe! He can't hurt you anymore!” he shouted, but Tony was screaming...  
A nurse barreled into the room anxiously, followed by another, appraising the situation, “What happened?” Tony's entire body seemed to tighten and flex against the memory of pain.  
“Nightmare...or a flashback, maybe,” Gibbs told her. “Can you do somethin'?”  
She turned to the nurse beside her, “3mg diazepam,” she instructed. The other nurse nodded and moved to the medical drawer to prepare the syringe.   
Gibbs continued to hold onto Tony's hand that had an iron grip on his, as he watched the nurse inject the diazepam into the IV line. Within moments, the grip loosened, and Tony's face began to relax. Mere moments after that, he was sleeping peacefully again.  
He placed a hand on Tony's forehead and brushed back the hair that had strewn across it. He was vaguely aware that the nurses were talking, but didn't pay much attention, since it wasn't to him.   
Once they left and all was quiet, he slowly slipped into the chair beside the bed again. And as he looked upon his sleeping agent, he realized something... He'd just heard from their Tony, for the first time since they'd found him...


	11. Chapter 11

McGee awoke to his cell phone ringing, and picked up his head to realize he'd fallen asleep at his desk. Before grabbing the phone, he glanced out the window at the sunrise. “McGee,” he answered.  
“I wake you up, McGee?” Gibbs' voice sounded on the other line.  
Tim straightened at the sound of his boss's voice, “Uh...yeah, Boss, but it's okay. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm not even sure when I did...”  
“You still at the office?”  
“I managed to track down Jessica Cullen's mother,” he replied. “The reason the FBI wasn't able to find her is because she'd changed her name and moved to Maryland about two months after Jessica was buried.”  
“You got an address?”  
“Yes, Boss. It's about a 45 minute drive from here. Ziva and I could be there within the hour.”  
“It can wait, Tim. Ziva go home last night?”   
“Uh...” he glanced around and noticed her backpack by her desk. “It doesn't look like she left, Boss, but I'm not sure where she is. I thought she was gonna head over to the hospital last night, actually.”  
“Didn't see her, if she did,” came his reply. “You've both been there for two straight days, McGee. Find her and both of ya go home and go to bed. Get some rest. Get a shower. Get some food in you. Then you and Ziva can plan to go.”  
“What about you?” he asked, boldly.   
“What about me, McGee?”  
“Well, Boss, you haven't been home in three days. I know you made a promise to Tony, but you've gotta be pretty rank by now...” his eyes widened at his own boldness and he held his breath as he waited for the reply.  
There was a long pause before he did. “You channeling DiNozzo now?”  
McGee smirked, detecting one on the other line as well, “Maybe so. Just until he can do it again, himself, Boss.”  
There was a ruffling noise on the other line. “Seems like Ziva might've stopped by after all. My overnight bag is here, as well as Tony's. And there's a shower in the bathroom here. Think that'll be acceptable?”   
“That depends whether or not you'll actually use it,” he replied.  
“Call me when you're on your way to the mother's place,” he told him, and the call ended.   
As McGee put the phone down, he pondered the possibility that he might have pushed it a bit with that last line. But, in reality, it's what Tony would've said to Gibbs, had the roles been reversed. So, he pushed the thought aside and set out to find Ziva.   
Abby's lab was quiet, and he was fairly grateful she'd decided to go home. Although, the forensic goth would, no doubt, be there again within the hour. Fact remained, Ziva wasn't there. So he moved on to autopsy.   
He almost turned back when he saw the lights out through the doors, but had a feeling she was there, so continued in anyway. Sure enough, she laid face-up on the closest cold table to the door, just as he'd seen Gibbs the day before.   
Part of him found some humor in the fact that he'd seen his colleagues this way; wondered how desensitized he might actually be if it ever happened that any of them were to end up on one of these tables for their actual, intended purpose. But that feeling of humor quickly dropped away when he remembered how close they'd come to having Tony down here. Yeah...definitely not desensitized, he thought.  
“What is it, McGee?” Ziva's voice pulled him out of his reverie, though she hadn't moved from her position or even opened an eye.  
“Uh...I uh, found the location of Jessica Cullen's mother.”  
“Yes. I saw the screen when I returned and you had fallen asleep.”  
“Ziva, you should've gone home and gotten some sleep in a real bed.”  
“I could say the same to you,” she said as she sat up and spun to the side so her legs were hanging down. “Besides, I have slept in worse,” she smirked.   
“You brought Gibbs' and Tony's bags by the hospital,” it wasn't a question.  
“I did. They were both sleeping, so I was not there long. When I returned and found you sleeping, I punched the shower and came down here to try and get some sleep.”  
“You... you mean you hit the shower,” he surmised. “Well, did you sleep alright?” he asked as she jumped down and made her way toward the door with him.  
“What time is it?”  
“Little after six.”  
“Then yes, I did.”  
“Good. 'Cause Gibbs wants us to get something to eat then head to talk to the girl's mother.”  
“Debra Smith,” Ziva recalled from the information on the screen, as they boarded the elevator. “I suppose it is a good name for disappearing.”  
“Not good enough,” he reminded her.  
“Good enough to dodge the FBI. Give her some credit, McGee; she had no idea that you would be looking,” she gave him a playful smile.   
Tim blushed in modesty. “Uh... I've got a change of clothes in my desk. I can hit the shower if you can run out and grab something for us to eat on the way?”

11 00 11 00 11

“You both ate?” Gibbs asked McGee over the phone.  
“Ziva and I have food for the road, Boss. And plenty of water...and a first aid kit...” he listed in a very Tony-like, patronizing way.  
“Yeah, okay, McGee,” he smirked. “I get it. I want a call when you get there, and then I want you to check in with Abby every half hour; got it? In fact, call her when you're off the phone with me and let her know you'll be checkin' in every half hour. And if she should not get a call from you, that she's to call me immediately.”  
“I'll call her, Boss. Oh...Ziva told me to tell you she'd left some energy bars in your overnight bag for you.”  
“Yeah, I got 'em. Tell her to get the ones without the fruit next time.”  
“Will do. I'll be calling in about 45, Boss.”  
“Be careful, Tim,” he told him, ending the call before he could respond.  
“Is everything okay?” Tony's voice pulled Gibbs' attention immediately and he turned from the window to look at him.  
“Yeah, fine,” he replied as he made his way to the bed. “I was wonderin' how late you'd sleep in,” he smirked. “It's after seven.”  
“Usually, I sleep till 7:30,” he replied. “I can get ready for the bus pretty fast,” he smiled proudly.  
Gibbs tried not to show his disappointment in the revelation that he was talking to the younger identity again. “Do you prefer being called 'Junior'?” he decided to ask.  
“You can call me whatever you want, Gibbs,” he replied. “I like that you call me Tony.”  
Gibbs smirked and cocked his head at that. “Speakin' of, I'm pretty sure he talked to me a bit last night. You were sleepin'.”  
Tony's smile faded, “It was a bad dream. Remembering what the bad man did...”  
“Do you remember those things?”  
“I...” he took a breath and focused on Gibbs' chest. “I remember the bad dreams. I always remember the bad dreams.”  
“Think it'd help to tell me about them?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.   
Tony met his eyes again with a look almost like surprise. “You're a grownup,” he said. “You might not think they're so scary. And then you'll see what a baby I am...” he looked down at the blanket.  
“Tony thought they were scary, and he's a grownup,” Gibbs reminded him. “He's the one hiding, remember? And you're out here, being brave, talkin' to me.”  
Tony looked up at him again with eyes full of wonder, “You think I'm brave?”  
Gibbs smiled at him and patted his hand, “Yeah, I do.”  
“You wanna hear the bad dreams?” he verified. Gibbs nodded. Tony swallowed and looked down at Gibbs' hand where it lay next to his. “The one last night,” he began, “Was about the bad man acting very scared.”  
“Scared?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.  
“Yeah,” he looked up to meet his eyes. “He was scared that someone might find Tony; that there was something in Tony's skin that could make it so you could find him. So he took the chains off. Tony couldn't stand up anymore,” his breathing picked up a bit and Gibbs took his hand. Tony turned his hand around in his and gripped back. “He wanted to run...he really did,” he met Gibbs' eyes again, trying to convey this fact. “But he couldn't get up, no matter how hard he tried. Not after...” Gibbs felt the shudder that ran through Tony's body.   
“Not after what?” he squeezed his hand to reassure him.  
Tony shook his head, “I don't wanna talk about that. It makes my stomach hurt.”  
“Okay,” Gibbs' voice was calm and supportive, but inside, his gut churned. “Tell me what happened after he fell to the floor.”  
Tony took a calming breath. “The bad man went to the shelf; the one with the doors,” he clarified. “And he got Tony's knife. Tony told him not to do it, but the bad man wouldn't listen. He cut Tony's neck in the back. Then he stuck his fingers in... Tony thought he was done, but then he flipped him over and took off Tony's pants and cut open his leg. It hurt Tony so much...” he took in a shaky breath. “And when he put his fingers in it, Tony tried not to scream, Gibbs...but...”   
“It's okay,” Gibbs reached his free hand up to the side of Tony's head and gently stroked it to calm the agitated 'child'. It had an immediate effect and Tony's eyes closed for a moment as he breathed.   
His free hand came up to his face, touching the feeding tube as if he'd only just now realized it was even there. “What is this?” he asked a bit fearfully.  
“It's a tube that puts some important vitamins and nutrients in your stomach until you're ready to eat on your own. It's kinda like a...power shake,” he smirked.  
“A power shake? Like the stuff Bruce Lee drank to get strong for Enter the Dragon?” his eyes lit up.  
Gibbs couldn't help but smile at the fact that this kid really was Tony, and that his love of movies had followed him around for so long. “Yep. Just like Bruce Lee.”  
Tony smiled back at him, but it was short-lived. “It's kinda starting to hurt,” he revealed.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “Well, I don't think it's supposed to. Let me get a nurse to come take a look, okay?” he pressed the call button.

11 00 11 00 11

“Miss Smith?” McGee asked as a woman answered the door.  
“Yes...who are you?”  
“I'm Special Agent McGee and this is Agent David,” he told her as they held up their badges. “We're with NCIS. We're here to ask you some questions regarding Michael Cullen.”  
Her eyes widened as she began to panic, “Oh god...he's...he's not here, is he?”  
Tim furrowed his brow, “No, ma'am. Cullen is deceased as of earlier this week.”  
“Where? Where was he?” she asked.  
“He was discovered just outside of D.C,” he decided not to elaborate too much just yet. “May we come in?”  
“Oh,” she relaxed just a bit, “Of course.” She moved out of their way as she opened the door wider for them. “What, exactly, is this about? And how did you find me?”  
“Do not worry, Miss Smith,” Ziva assured her. “We have no interest in revealing your location.”  
“Alright,” she said as she led them to the living room.   
“What this is about,” Tim began, “Is us trying to understand what Michael was doing for the past half year before his death. When is the last time you had contact with him?”  
Smith laughed, “I haven't spoken with Michael in...a decade,” she told him. “Not since after what happened to Jess...” her voice drifted off as she looked down at the floor.  
“We are sorry about what happened,” Ziva said. “If there is something that you would be willing to tell us...now that Michael is dead, it would be of very great help to at least three other families.”  
Her head shot up at that, “What do you mean?”  
“Michael kidnapped and brutally tortured three people,” McGee explained. “Two of them, he killed. The last, Michael was stopped before he could finish. But the victim is in critical condition.”  
“Oh my god...” her hand went over her mouth. “I...” she closed her eyes, then pushed up out of the chair and walked to the window; back facing them. “I was afraid something like this might happen.”  
“What do you mean?” Ziva inquired.   
“Michael was...a bit out of control after the drug charge. But...those drugs, he took to stabilize himself. I didn't agree with his methods of treatment, which is why we couldn't be together. But they evened him out enough to function. Jessica was uh... unfortunately sometimes a bit like her father,” she let out a small laugh as she turned to face them. “She would get these...spells, where she'd become extremely agitated. And she'd lash out at people; sometimes in frightening ways.”  
“Like how?” Tim asked.  
“Like...I almost lost her to an institution once,” she said. “I had to pay off our nanny to keep her mouth shut and just walk away.”  
“What happened?” Ziva asked.   
“We had a cat,” she began, shuddering before she could continue. “Jess got upset because the cat wouldn't sit still for a picnic, and ended up jumping onto the table and knocking over her tea.” She took a breath, “When the nanny screamed, I ran upstairs and found that Jess had tied the poor thing to the chair and...,” tears sprung to her eyes, “She'd beaten its head in with the teapot and just...continued playing as if it was another stuffed animal sitting in the chair for her picnic...”  
McGee swallowed, “And you didn't want her institutionalized, why now?”  
“She was my daughter,” she sighed. “Of course, now, in hindsight, I should have let her go. She might still be alive...”  
“Do you know how she died, Miss Smith?” Ziva asked.  
“In a fire,” she replied. “The nanny and her were the only ones home at the time.”  
“The nanny died as well?” Ziva asked.  
“They found her in the kitchen,” she replied. “Apparently she'd had a stroke while cooking lunch. It's why the house caught fire, they said. It started in the kitchen.”  
“I hate to bear this news, Miss Smith, but your daughter did not die in that fire,” Ziva explained. “We spoke with Shaun, and he confessed that, in the midst of one of Jessica's 'fits', Michael accidentally strangled her to death.”  
“No...no absolutely not...” she shook her head. “He loved Jessica with every fiber of his being. She was his whole world...”  
“Shaun helped him cover it up by setting the house on fire,” Ziva finished.  
“Right now, Peoria authorities are exhuming Jessica's body to do an autopsy that'll prove or disprove Shaun's claims,” Tim told her.   
“They're digging up my baby?” she said through clenched teeth as tears streamed her face. “They can't do that! They don't have my permission!”  
“With all due respect, ma'am,” Tim counteracted, “You gave up those rights when you skipped town and changed your name ten years ago...”

11 00 11 00 11

“Feel better?” the nurse asked Tony after having removed the tube. His bed was inclined now, sitting him up at a little more than a 45 degree angle. He nodded as he swallowed against the lightened discomfort. “You remember your promise, now... You've gotta try and eat something for us. If you can't manage it, we might have to put the tube back in.”  
“Can I have a power shake?” he asked with hopeful eyes.  
“Chocolate, strawberry or vanilla?” she asked.  
He thought hard about it for a moment. “Can I have all three?”   
She let out a small laugh, “I tell you what; how about I bring you the vanilla first. Then, if you can keep it down alright and you're still hungry, I'll bring you another flavor.”  
“Okay,” he smiled. She turned to leave, but Tony called out to her and she turned back around. “When do I get to go home?”  
She shared a glance with Gibbs, who was still looking a bit amused about the shakes. “As soon as all the tests come back and show that your blood and...well, your organs like your heart and kidneys are okay, then we'll start thinking about releasing you. Okay? So, maybe another couple of days.”  
“Okay,” he said, relaxing a bit back into the pillows with a resigned sigh. The nurse left and Tony looked over at Gibbs. “When they let me go...” he started, but looked back down at his blanket.  
“What did you wanna say?” Gibbs asked. “Ya know you can tell me anything, right? I'm not goin' anywhere.”  
Tony looked back up at him as Gibbs sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Where am I gonna go?” he asked. “If Tony doesn't come back...where will I go when they let me go? I dunno how to be a grownup, Gibbs. And I don't think my dad wants me back...” he focused tearful eyes on Gibbs' chest.  
“You'll come home with me,” he told him. “When you're well enough, we'll have cowboy-style steaks; Tony's favorite,” he smirked. Tony looked at him a bit skeptically. “You okay with that? Comin' to my place?”   
“I'm really really okay with that, Gibbs,” he nodded. “I'm just...sorry your Tony won't come out. I'll try to be really good. But you shouldn't have to watch a kid all the time...”   
“Aw hell, Tony,” he gently pulled him into a hug before the 'child' could start to cry again; or perhaps to stop himself. “I'll take care of you. Don't you worry. You won't be any more trouble than Tony ever is,” he smirked when he felt Tony laugh and put his arms around Gibbs' back, squeezing as tightly as he could manage. “I'll take care of you...”


	12. Chapter 12

Tony was happily and proudly sipping at his second 'power shake' at lunchtime, every once in a while glancing over at Gibbs to make sure he had seen his progress. Gibbs was pretending not to watch him as he read the newspaper that one of the nurses brought in for him earlier. But he couldn't help the smirk every time he saw Tony look over from the corner of his eye.   
A soft knocking on the open door pulled both of their attention toward it. “Hey, Tobias,” Gibbs greeted, folding the paper up and setting it to the side as Fornell entered the room with a paper bag.   
“Afternoon, Jethro,” he replied then turned to look at Tony. “Glad to see you awake, DiNozzo.” Tony chewed his lip as he appraised the man.   
“What's in the bag?” Gibbs asked.   
He turned back to Gibbs, “Lunch, actually. Made ya a couple sandwiches, and Emily insisted I make DiNozzo some soup,” he smirked and looked back at Tony, who was suspiciously staring at the bag now. “Chicken noodle is her favorite, so she had me make some for you. I okay'd it with the nurse before I brought it in, if you'd like some.” He pulled the clear, round container from the bag and gave the bag and its remaining contents to Gibbs before heading toward the bed. “I think it's cooled enough from the ride over here if you want to eat it now.”  
Tony glanced nervously from the soup to Tobias, then to Gibbs. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “Do you want the soup, Tony?” Gibbs asked. Tony nodded.   
Fornell gave him a small smile and pulled the rolling dinner tray over the bed and set the soup down, opening the lid. “Oh!” he turned, “There's a spoon in the bag, Jethro,” he held his hand out, “Emily insisted I let you use her Mickey spoon,” he raised his brow as he fished the spoon from the bag and held it out to Tony.  
Tony slowly reached up, eying the stainless steel spoon with the mouse-ear tipped handle. He took it and flipped it around to see Mickey's face on one side, and the corners of his mouth turned up a bit. “I like Emily,” he said softly. “Tell her I said 'thank you'.” Tobias nodded, and he took a few steps back as he and Gibbs observed the agent studying the gifts.   
Tony was nearly lost in the way the steam floated peacefully from the bowl. He set the spoon on the table beside it and carefully cupped his hands around each side of the bowl; eyes closing at the comforting warmth.   
When he finally opened them again, he looked over at Gibbs, down to the sandwich in his hand and back to his eyes again. Gibbs picked it up and took a large bite, and as if that was all he'd been waiting for so that he could begin, Tony picked up the spoon and dove into the soup.   
“Hey, slow down there, Tony,” Gibbs warned. “If you don't want it comin' back up on ya.”  
Tony looked at him with understanding and nodded before wearily heeding the command.   
Tobias turned his body toward the window, “Got the results back on the unknown substance,” he told him quietly, and walked over to the window. Gibbs stood from the chair and followed. Quietly, Fornell explained, “Sick bastard put epicac in the biscuits like it was a pad of butter.”  
“The stuff that induces vomiting,” he verified.  
“Yeah. We found a bakery nearby Shaun Cullen's home that sold the biscuits. The owner said he recognized Michael when we showed him his picture. Also said they sell those biscuits by the dozen. We found nine, Jethro. Cullen purchased them a week after DiNozzo went missing.”  
“He starved him and gave him no choice but to eat whatever was in front of him,” Gibbs surmised, grimly.  
“For three days, apparently,” he guessed. “The rest of the time, he was keepin' him alive by givin' him some kinda beef broth in a tin cup. Just enough to keep him alive, Jethro. Found cans of the stuff in Shaun's pantry.”  
“What else did you find in the house?” Gibbs queried.  
“Not much. Interesting phone call log from the house phone, though. The guy actually profiled the hell out of your man. Right down to the place he orders pizza from regularly. In fact, we found a half-eaten pizza in the fridge from that place; looked like extra cheese, pepperoni and sausage.”  
“That sonofabitch...” Gibbs sighed.  
“What?”  
“That's Tony's favorite. He must've gotten that intel from whoever he ordered from. Used the pizza to taunt Tony while he was starving.”  
“Makes sense,” Tobias cocked his head.   
Gibbs looked over at a suddenly quiet Tony. He'd stopped eating his soup and was now focused somewhere on the table in front of him. Gibbs walked back over toward the bed. “You feelin' okay?”  
Tony looked up at him and nodded. “I'm just full,” he said as he looked back down at the table. “Stomach hurts a little. But I'm not gonna throw up; promise.”   
Tobias grabbed a small can of gingerale he'd brought for Gibbs, opened it and set it on the table for Tony. “That'll help ya,” he told him with a small, reassuring smile. Gibbs nodded in agreement when Tony looked to him, and stuck a straw in the can.  
Tony picked up the soda and took a few sips from the straw, then looked to Tobias, “Thanks.”  
“No problem, kid,” he smiled, then looked to Gibbs. “I'm headin' back to the office. Let me know what your team finds out.”  
“Thanks, Toby,” Gibbs nodded as the man left, then looked to Tony. “You probably don't remember him,” he surmised.  
“I remember,” Tony told him, surprisingly. “He's a nice man, but sometimes he made Tony nervous.” Gibbs cocked his head, amused but in need of further elaboration. “And sometimes he made him feel jealous 'cause you're friends...” Tony suddenly shied away.  
“Hey,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes and reached over to tap under his chin. “What's wrong? Told ya you could tell me anything, remember?”  
“Tony wouldn't want me to tell you some things,” he whispered.   
“Well Tony doesn't get to be the boss until he mans up and comes out of wherever he's hidin',” he told him sternly.   
They were both silent for a while as Tony absorbed that thought. Then he looked up at Gibbs again, “Can we save the rest of the soup?” he asked. “Can we make it hot again next time I wanna eat it?”  
“Yeah, sure,” he said as he capped the container and moved the tray away from the bed. “So,” he raised his brows and had a hint of a smile on his face, “Ya like Fornell's cooking, then?”  
“I like Emily's favorite soup,” he said. “She's nice. Do I know her? Are we friends?”   
“You know her a little. And I think it's safe to say she likes ya,” he smirked. “And that's somethin' to say, really, 'cause Tony doesn't usually have much luck with kids; much as he tries.”  
“That's probably my fault,” he replied.  
“Why would you say that?” Gibbs asked. Tony shook his head and then broke into an unexpected yawn. If it were his Tony, Gibbs would've taken that as a clever avoidance of the question. But he did look a bit tired. “You did good with lunch, Tony. I'm proud of ya.” Tony smiled, blinking sleepily. “Get some sleep; I'll be here.”  
The phone rang, just then. Gibbs patted Tony's hand before turning to answer it. “Gibbs.”  
“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” Abby panicked on the other line.“I haven't heard from Tim and Ziva, and it's like...twenty minutes past their check-in time! I've called like ten times and there's no answer on either of their phones!” Gibbs felt a sudden panic rising in his chest. Then he heard a clicking sound across the line. “Oh wait...hold on, Gibbs...oh thank God! That's Tim calling me on the other line. Hold on a sec, and I'll let you know what happened...”  
Gibbs sank into the chair, wiping a hand down his face as he breathed a sigh of relief. The sting of panic from moments ago, however, was still felt in every pore of his body. That same sting he'd felt when they realized Tony was missing...  
“Okay, I'm back,” Abby's voice came again. “McGee said they lost signal out of nowhere once they left Debra Smith's residence and didn't get it back until they were on the main road. He said they're both fine and they're heading back to D.C now. They both wanna know if it'd be okay to stop by and fill you in in person?”  
“That's fine,” he replied. “But tell 'em Fornell already brought us lunch. So whatever Ducky planned to have 'em bring here for me, they can skip it.”  
“Right, Bossman. How's Tony?”  
“Doin' good, Abs. Got his feeding tube out today and he's startin' to eat like his old self, already,” he smirked as he looked to see Tony was watching him and listening intently to the conversation with a sudden flash of pride.   
“That's so good! Okay, I'm gonna go; still got Tim on the other line. I'll convey the message. Tell Tony I'm sending him a hug in my thoughts.”  
“Bye, Abs,” he ended the call and focused on Tony. “You feel up to some visitors?”  
“Who?”  
“Your team,” he told him. “Your friends,” he clarified.  
“You mean Tony's,” he corrected.   
Gibbs cocked his head, “Yours, too. If you'll let them.”  
Tony seemed to consider that for a few moments. “Okay.”

11 00 11 00 11

A little over half an hour later, Ziva and McGee quietly entered the room after McGee had lightly tapped on the door.   
“You were here before,” Tony said when he saw Tim.  
“That's right; I was, Tony,” he gave a nervous smile. “You look a lot better today. I see you got your feeding tube out.”  
Tony nodded. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, “Your name is McGee.”  
“You do remember me,” Tim smiled. “I wasn't sure... Do you remember who this is?” he pulled Ziva closer and switched places so that she was more at the head of the bed.  
Tony studied her face for a long moment. Then the corner of his lips curled up, “Ninja.”  
“You remember my nickname and Jimmy's,” she huffed, playfully, “But not McGee's?”  
“It is a bit surprising, considering how many there are,” Tim added.  
“Maybe that's why it took so long to remember which one was right,” Gibbs said with a smirk.  
“Ziva and Tim,” Tony's voice pulled their attention back to him. All of the agents were surprised at his recollection. “You're my friends?”  
“Yes,” Ziva told him, taking his hand. “We are your friends; all of us.”  
“You're Tony's friends...but Gibbs said you'd be my friends, too. Will you?” he looked between the two of them with hopeful eyes.   
Ziva glanced over at Gibbs before meeting Tony's eyes again. “Of course we will,” she smiled.  
“Yeah,” Tim said. “You didn't even have to ask, ya know.”  
“But you don't even know me very well,” Tony retorted. “How do you know if you like me?”  
Gibbs raised his brows at the question, looking back and forth between his agents, curious as to how they'd respond. Ziva seemed to have the answer almost immediately. “Because, you are a part of Tony, and we like Tony; every part of him.”  
“Every part? Even the annoying ones?” Tony asked, skeptically.  
Ziva smiled and let out a small laugh, “Yes. Even the annoying ones.”  
“Sometimes we even depend on the annoying parts,” McGee added. “And the funny parts.”  
“Yes,” Ziva agreed. “We have missed the funny parts very much. The office is not as happy without it.”  
“I can be funny sometimes,” Tony claimed. “I know all the words from Smokey and the Bandit!”   
“Smokey and the Bandit?” Ziva narrowed her eyes and looked to Tim. “Is this another movie?”  
“Yeah, Ziva. A good one, at that. There's actually talk of a remake in the works.”  
“Really?” Tony's eyes brightened.  
“Yep,” Tim smiled. “I'm not sure if they'll do it or not, but it'd be interesting to see what they'd do with it.”  
“Maybe we can go see it if they do!” Tony suggested.  
“Absolutely,” Tim smiled. “And when you get to go home, I'm pretty sure you've got the original movie somewhere amongst your collection. I think I saw it once, when I was over.”  
“I've got a movie collection?”  
“Oh yes,” Ziva nodded. “Hundreds of them. I am not even certain you have watched them all.”  
Tony looked over at Gibbs, “When they let me leave, can we bring my movies to your house?”  
“Already have some of 'em there, but yeah, Tony. You can bring however many you want,” Gibbs told him. “In fact, I think McGee and Ziva might be willing to bring your stuff over sometime this week, when they're not busy,” he said looking up at the two.  
“I think we could manage that,” Ziva said. “Anything else you would like us to bring?” she asked, looking back down at Tony who had suddenly broken into a yawn.  
“I...I don't know what stuff I have,” he said. “Do I have any other cool stuff?” he asked, breaking into another yawn.  
“Alright, I think it's time to get some rest,” Gibbs said, standing from the chair.  
“Will you come back?” Tony asked the two younger agents.   
“If you want,” McGee replied.  
“I like to talk about movies,” he told him. “No one usually ever wants to talk about them with me.” Gibbs pressed the button to lower the bed as they talked.  
“Well, I'll talk with you about movies all you want,” Tim assured him. “For as long as I'm able to be here, anyway. In fact, I'll try and come by around lunchtime tomorrow, if it's okay with Gibbs...”  
“Sounds good, Tim,” Gibbs nodded.  
“And Ziva can come after work, maybe?” Tony asked, yawning again.  
Ziva's lips curled up on either side. “I will come, and perhaps bring you something if you promise to keep doing so well,” she bent down and kissed his cheek, causing Tony to blush again.  
“I promise I'll try,” he said.  
“I'm gonna step out in the hall with them for a minute, so they can fill me in on what they did today, okay, Tony?” Gibbs pulled the blanket up over him. Tony nodded. “I'll be right outside the door.”  
Tony's eyes slipped closed and Gibbs moved to follow the agents out.  
“Jessica's mother didn't know about her real cause of death,” McGee told him. “But she knew Cullen was sick, and she knew Jessica was sick as well.”  
“Jessica should have been in an institution being treated and cared for properly,” Ziva continued. “She had very violent tendencies.”  
“Killed a family pet and sat down to have tea with it,” McGee grimaced.  
“She did say that Jessica was everything to Michael; that he would never intentionally cause her harm. But he had been self-medicating for his illness up until a couple of days before what happened with Jessica. The likelihood that he'd been abusing her is very small. She lived solely with her mother. There would be no proof, either way,” Ziva said.  
“So...what he did with his victims,” Gibbs said as his eyes focused elsewhere, “Was really more him acting out the part of his daughter. Or some twisted combination of the both of them...”  
“Since he was targeting specific people,” McGee said, “I'd have to say that's probably right. But it's strange how he hadn't acted out on any of those urges before now.”  
“Maybe he was relapsing when he saw the ghosts of the past,” Gibbs said. “Might be that he had a psychotic break once he crossed paths with that first victim. 'Crazy' comes in all shapes an' sizes.”  
“What now, Gibbs,” Ziva asked. “What happens to Tony?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“He is not himself,” she said. “Will he get better?”  
“He's still Tony, Ziva. Just, part of him's not ready to come out yet. But no matter how long that takes, we don't leave a man behind...”

11 00 11 00 11

Catherine Akers ducked into the hospital gift shop with only a minute to spare before they were going to close for the day. She had to grab something quickly for her niece up in ICU. Amongst all of the stuffed animals, she felt lost. She had no idea what the girl would prefer.  
Desperate, she closed her eyes and reached forward, grabbing onto the first thing her hand came into contact with. She opened her eyes to see what she'd gotten; a fluffy, pink bear. She rolled her eyes and sighed, but decided to get it anyway. After all, it wasn't for her and she'd never have to see it again.  
“Oh a fine choice, dear,” the elderly lady at the checkout counter said as she typed into the register. “You know it plays music? There's a wind up on its back; they don't make many things like that anymore...”  
“Yeah, thanks,” Catherine sighed. “How much? I'm kind of in a hurry.”  
“Ten dollars, young lady,” she told her. “Sick loved one in the hospital?” she asked as she took the woman's credit card to scan.  
“My niece is in ICU.”  
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”  
“She'll be okay,” Catherine smiled. “Thanks,” she took her card back and grabbed the bear. “I don't need the receipt...”

11 00 11 00 11

Tony woke in time for his dinner tray, consisting of the re-heated soup and another shake; chocolate, the one flavor he hadn't had yet. He looked over at Gibbs, “What're you gonna eat for dinner, Gibbs?”  
“Your soup, if you don't eat it pretty soon,” he smirked, quirking a brow.  
“You can't have my soup!” Tony giggled. “Fornell brought it for me!”  
“I can't?” Gibbs couldn't help grinning at Tony's giggles. “Who's gonna stop me?” he stood up as if he were going to try and take it.   
“No!” Tony laughed and started drinking the soup as fast as he could manage.  
“Hey hey hey! Slow down or you'll make yourself sick,” Gibbs said with amusement in his face as he sank down on the edge of the bed. “I'm not gonna take your soup.”  
“It's too late, Gibbs!” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It's already gone,” he grinned, proudly.   
“If you throw up, I'll be sure to let Tobias and Emily know,” he smirked, ruffling Tony's hair.  
“I'm not gonna throw up. That first time was 'cause their was somethin' gaggin' me.”  
“You haven't thrown up since, so maybe you're right.”  
“I'm right usually a lot,” he smiled and Gibbs let out a small laugh. “I am! Just, people don't usually listen.”  
“What about when you're not right?” Gibbs cocked his head.  
“That's when people not listening comes in handy,” he replied. Gibbs threw he head back and laughed. Tony wasn't exactly sure why it was that funny, but seeing Gibbs laugh like that made it impossible not to join in, himself.  
In the hall, a little girl sat in a wheelchair with her pink bear and began winding the key on its back...  
Tony's smile slowly faded as the sound reached his ears. He looked over at the door, but could see no one. His heart began pounding in his chest and he felt cold all over...  
Gibbs looked down at Tony after having laughed harder than he had in months...possibly longer. And quite quickly, the joy turned sour at the sight of his suddenly panic-stricken agent. Tony was near hyperventilating and had a look of fear in his eyes. “Tony? Tony, what's wrong?”  
The pink bear began to play a familiar tune...one Tony had heard every day for the past month before Gibbs had found him...  
“No...no no no...no, Gibbs...”  
“What's wrong, Tony?” he asked again.  
“He's coming back...” tears began to pour down his cheeks as he shook his head. “I can hear him. He's coming back...” his pulled his hands up to cover his ears and he began to rock back and forth.  
“Tony, I told you he can't hurt you anymore. And I'm right here. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you. Tony?” he grabbed his shoulders, stilling his rocking. But Tony stared ahead as if he was no longer aware of his surroundings...


	13. Chapter 13

Gibbs panicked as he looked into the unresponsive green eyes of his agent. “Tony... Tony, no. Don't hide away... Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what's happening!” he received no sign that he'd even heard him. Frantic, he pressed the nurse call button and searched where Tony had originally been looking. He saw nothing. But he heard music, and he narrowed his eyes as he got up out of the bed.   
“Come on, Charlotte,” a woman's voice sounded just outside. “Time to get back to your room.” He peeked out in time to see the bear she held, playing a familiar tune he couldn't quite recall the name or words to. His brain made the connection to the music box, though he'd not heard its tune.  
“What's wrong, Agent Gibbs?” a nurse asked as she hurriedly approached the room.  
“He suddenly became unresponsive. He seemed afraid; agitated,” he turned back into the room with the nurse and took Tony's hands from his ears. “Tony, can you hear me?” Tears seemed to continue falling as if someone had left a faucet on low.  
“I'll get the doctor to see if we can approve some lorazepam to calm him,” the nurse said as she hurried out of the room.  
Gibbs sank onto the edge of the bed, turning his body to face Tony's, and put both hands on either side of Tony's face. “Listen to me,” he said in a quiet, calming voice. “I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that song that was playing in the hall is what scared you. But it was just a toy, Tony. There's a little girl who's here in the hospital just like you, and she had a toy that played that song. It wasn't Cullen. I told you, no one's gonna hurt you anymore; I won't let them. I made you a promise, didn't I? You ask Tony if I ever broke a promise... Ask him. He'll tell you I haven't.”  
Tony's eyes squeezed shut and a sob escaped him. “I'm sorry...” he whispered through tears.  
“Don't be,” he said, pulling him against his chest. “You didn't do anything.”  
“I got scared... I...I shouldn't get so...scared. I shouldn't...cry.”  
Gibbs took one of his hands that was around Tony's back and put it on the back of Tony's head, soothingly stroking it, “You're allowed to be scared sometimes, Tony. You're even allowed to cry if you feel like it. But you don't need to be afraid of the bad man anymore. He's dead. He can't hurt anyone anymore.”  
“The bad man is dead?” he asked in a small voice.  
“Yep.”  
“He was...he was gone for a long long time before you came. It was so dark, and I was all alone. I thought he just left us to die. I was happy,” he whispered the last sentence. Gibbs' heart sank in his chest as Tony's arms came up around Gibbs' back. “When you came, I thought he'd come back. I thought he was gonna start all over again... But then, I recognized your voice... and I knew I would be okay.”  
“That's right, Tony,” he told him, laying the side of his head against Tony's. “You're okay now.”  
“But Tony wasn't there, Gibbs,” he squeezed tighter. “Tony was gone when you got there. He never left the bad place. He's still stuck there and he can't get out...”

...The Bad Place...

Tony was curled up beneath the table on his side. It was dark, but that was okay. When it was dark, I meant Cullen wasn't there. And if Cullen wasn't there, then there wouldn't be anymore pain.  
Since he'd taken refuge under the table, though, he couldn't move anymore. It was as if the last paralyzing shot had taken permanent effect. So, if Cullen came back, he'd have to drag him out of there before he could do anything more to him.   
For now, though, he wanted to sleep. But sitting a few feet in front of his face, was the music box...taunting him.

11 00 11 00 11

To Gibbs' surprise, both he and Tony slept through the night; Tony sleeping even longer. He'd gotten up for breakfast and talked for a little while, until a nurse came in to speak with him.  
“Hi, Tony,” she smiled. “Feeling up to doing a little walking this morning?”  
Tony looked at her with curiosity, “Where?”  
“Well, for now, just out in the hall to see how you do. Then later, if you do well, maybe we can go out to the garden. It's a nice day out.”  
Tony seemed excited, and he sat up and pulled the covers off of him, looking down at sock-clad feet. “I don't have any shoes,” he frowned.  
“Well, look,” the nurse went to the side table and opened a drawer, pulling out a navy blue pair of hospital issue slippers. “These are for you.”  
Tony took them and slid them on, “Thanks,” he smiled at her, then looked over at Gibbs. “Can Gibbs come walk with us, too?” he asked, looking back at the nurse.   
“Of course,” she said. “If he wants to. He can be your right-hand man,” she smirked.  
“My right-hand man?”  
“Well, in this case, he'll stand on your right side while I stand on your left. And if you need any help, you have us to grab onto.”  
“Ya think I'll need help walkin'?” he cocked his head as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  
“You haven't walked in over a month,” she said, getting closer to him as he inched off the bed. “Your muscles aren't as used to it right now.” She glanced at Gibbs who was making his way around the bed to stand at Tony's side as his feet touched the floor.  
“Take my arm, just in case,” Gibbs told him. Tony gazed at him with a determined look on his face, refusing help, until he stood completely.  
His legs shook and he grabbed onto Gibbs' bicep as the nurse grabbed Tony's other arm. “Whoa,” Tony said with a small laugh. “My legs feel like jello.”  
“Maybe this'll be a shorter walk than we thought,” the nurse said.  
“No!” Tony protested, straightening and steadying himself. “I can do this. I can.”  
“Okay, Tony,” she smiled. “Let's give it a shot.”  
His first few steps were uncoordinated and sloppy, to the point that Gibbs wished like hell that Michael was still alive so that he could kill him himself. But Tony's steps became more and more confident, and he was walking like a champ down the entire length of the hallway. He'd even let go of their arms at that point.  
When they reached the end and turned around, he smiled big and looked at Gibbs, “See?” he said, out of breath. “I told you I can do it!”   
“That ya did,” Gibbs returned the smile.  
“Now let's try and make it back,” the nurse said. Tony nodded, still out of breath, and positioned his foot to take a step. But suddenly, the energy seemed lost to him. “Whoa!” the nurse and Gibbs found themselves catching Tony on either side as he nearly collapsed to the floor.   
“I...sorry,” Tony said. “I don't...think I can...make it back,” he breathed, exhausted.  
“That's okay, Tony,” Gibbs assured him. “You did good.”  
“You got him?” the nurse asked. “I'll get a chair.” Gibbs nodded as he held onto Tony so that she could go. “Katelyn!” she called as she walked quickly toward the nurse station. “I need a wheelchair, asap!”  
Tony clung to Gibbs as the older man leaned against the wall, securing his arms around Tony's middle to keep him upright. “Katelyn,” Tony murmured.  
“What?” Gibbs asked, looking to see just as Tony's eyes drifted closed momentarily.  
“Kate...” a fleeting moment of anguish appeared on his face, but was gone within moments.  
“Tony?” His eyes opened again just as the nurse arrived with the chair. The two of them helped Tony into it.  
“I'm sorry,” Tony said, regaining some normal breathing level.  
“You've got nothing to be sorry for, sugar,” the nurse told him as she crouched down in front of him, putting his feet up on the foot-rests. “You did better than I could ever have imagined, for your first time walking in a month! It must be all those power shakes,” she winked at him. Tony gave her a relieved and proud smile. “Now,” she said as she stood, “Let's get you back to bed and I'll bring you some of that blue sports drink you like so much. How about that?”  
“Okay,” he replied.   
Once they got him situated in the bed, the nurse left to get the drink, and Gibbs sat down on the edge of it and looked Tony in the eyes. “Wanna tell me what happened?” he asked.  
“What?” Tony cocked his head.  
“In the hall, you said 'Kate', and you looked pretty sad. Do you remember Kate?”  
Tony looked off to the right for a long moment. “Kate...stayed with Tony when he was very sick,” he started.   
“You remember bein' very sick?” Gibbs' eyes flashed.  
Tony nodded, “I remember that whole time. Tony was scared. When he's scared, or sad, I can see,” he clarified, then met his eyes again. “I remember...blood on my face,” his voice shook, “And Kate was dead.” Gibbs took Tony's hand and squeezed it as he saw the raw emotion in his eyes. “After that, I didn't see anything for a long long time. But I still felt it.”  
Before Gibbs could respond, the nurse returned with the blue drink and handed it to Tony. “Feeling okay, sugar?” she asked when she saw his face.  
“Yeah,” he smiled and took a long drink.  
“If you need anything, you know what to do,” she winked, gave a small nod to Gibbs, and turned to walk out.  
Tony handed the drink to Gibbs, who took it and set it down on the side table. Then he reached up with his free hand, brushing the hair back off of Tony's forehead before tapping him under the chin and giving him a small smile. Tony returned it, his eyes beginning to droop; a sure sign he was exhausted.   
Gibbs stood, quietly, from the bed and sank down into the chair beside it. He kept eye contact with Tony until he rolled over, facing Gibbs, and fell asleep.  
He slept soundly, for hours, until McGee came lightly tapping on the door.   
“McGee!” Tony smiled, moving to sit up. “You came!”  
“'Course I did, Tony,” he returned the smile as he walked toward the bed. “I told you I would, didn't I?”  
“What did you bring?” Tony asked, eying the big paper bag at McGee's side.   
“Well,” he said, bringing the bag up to set on the bed, “I called the hospital ahead to make sure I could bring you lunch.” He pulled a styrofoam container out and set it on he rolling table before rolling it in front of Tony.  
Tony eagerly opened it, but looked disappointed at its contents. “Salad?”  
“It's good for you,” McGee smirked. “And if you eat it,” he said as he reached into the bag again, “Abby made you something special for a snack.” He displayed the overly-decorated bat-shaped cookie. Tony's eyes widened and he grabbed for the plastic-wrapped fork so that he could get to work on the salad. Tim looked over at a fairly amused Gibbs. “Got a salad for you too, Boss.”  
“I get a cookie if I eat mine?” he cocked his head and smirked.  
Tim smiled, “Abby sent one for you, too, yes.”  
“Alright, well...since you're here, lemme grab a shower. I'll eat when I'm out,” he said as he grabbed his bag and headed for the bathroom.  
When he heard the shower come on, McGee reached into the bag again, “I brought you something else.”  
“What?” Tony asked, excitedly.  
Tim pulled out a portable DVD player and found a place to plug it in before setting it beside Tony's lunch. “I stopped by your apartment last night after work; figured I'd get a head start picking out what movies to bring to Gibbs' house. So I grabbed your DVD player and this,” he pulled out a case.  
Tony's eyes widened, “Is that...Star Wars?”  
“The trilogy, actually,” he grinned. “I didn't think you'd have this, but sure enough, it was in a drawer at the bottom of the rack.”  
“My dad wouldn't take me to see it,” he said as he took the case from Tim. “This is mine?”  
“Sure is,” Tim replied, furrowing his brow; slightly saddened by the look in Tony's eyes at the mention of his father. “You wanna watch it while you eat?”  
“Can I? Will you watch it with me?” he looked up at him with hopeful eyes.  
Tim smiled, “I'll watch it with you until I've gotta head back to the office.” Tony looked back down at his salad, seeming a bit disappointed. “What's wrong?”   
“I...I just wanted to watch it with you, McGee,” he said as he pushed the salad around with his fork. “But that's okay. I understand.”  
“Hey,” Tim said, worriedly, as he pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down. “I'd love to stay and watch the whole first movie with you, Tony. But I doubt Gibbs'll give me a two hour lunch break,” he smirked. “I tell ya what, we can watch the first half now, then stop it, and I can come back and watch the rest with you later tonight if you want. Would that be okay?”  
Tony looked over at him skeptically, “Really?”  
“Yeah,” he smiled. “Right now, we're only working one case anyway. I think I'll be able to sneak away by the time Ziva's done visiting with you.”  
Tony smiled, “Okay.”  
“But you've gotta eat,” he warned.   
“I'm eating!” he said as he stuck a forkful of salad into his mouth.  
“Hey, Tony,” the nurse walked in with a smile. “I brought you your power shake,” she winked.  
“Thank you,” Tony said with his mouth full.   
“And I have some super good news for you,” she said. “Your blood tests all came back showing really good improvement. That means you should be able to go home tomorrow.”  
Tony swallowed with a bit of effort, “Really?”  
“Yep! I'm a little sad though,” she gave a sad smile.  
“Why?” Tony's face almost matched hers.  
“Because I won't get to see your handsome face every day anymore,” she grinned.  
Tony seemed distressed by her being upset. “...Maybe...I can come visit you?”  
“You would?” she raised her brows.  
“If Gibbs will bring me,” he seemed to relax a bit when she smiled.  
“I would really like that, Tony.”  
“And maybe if Gibbs is busy, my friend, McGee, can bring me. And I can bring you some of Abby's bat cookies,” he held his up to show her.  
“Those are awesome!” she said with a small laugh. Her pager went off at her side and she glanced down at it. “Oh...I have to run, sugar, but I'll see you in about an hour.”  
“Okay.”  
Once the nurse left the room, McGee looked back at Tony, “She seemed nice.”  
“Yeah, she's really nice. She brings me whatever flavor power shake I want. Did you know Bruce Lee drank power shakes?”  
“Did he?”   
“Yup. And they work too, 'cause now I'm strong enough to go home,” he smiled...

11 00 11 00 11

“McGee, where on earth have you been?!” Ziva asked through her teeth as he entered the bullpen.   
“I'm sorry, Ziva,” he said as he approached her desk. “But Gibbs let me stay to watch a movie with Tony. I didn't think he would... and I guess, with the shock and all, I didn't think to call and let you know. It's not like there's anything to do, anyway.”  
Ziva squinted at him, wanting to retort with something, but nothing came to mind. “How is Tony, then?” she settled for.  
“He's doing well,” he told her, relaxing marginally. “The doctors say he can go home tomorrow. So I figured, while you're visiting with him after work, Abby and I can take care of getting Tony's stuff together to bring to Gibbs'.”  
“But he is still... 'little-Tony'?”   
“Well...yeah.”  
“Do not misunderstand me; I do adore little-Tony. But it is not the same. We need our Tony. Should he not stay there until he is back to himself?”  
“First of all, it's not a psychiatric hospital, Ziva. They're not equipped to treat him there. Ducky's already set up a specialist to come by on a regular basis. Once Gibbs heard he was being released tomorrow, he called to see what needed to be done.”  
“And I suppose that Gibbs will be staying with him until he recovers,” she cocked her head as she looked down at her desk. “It is bad enough we do not have Tony. But we are half a team, here. All of our cases are being handed off. How long can this go on?” she looked back up at him.  
Tim's brow was furrowed in such a way that Ziva couldn't place it as anything but disbelief. “As long as it needs to,” he replied, stubbornly. “We thought we'd lost Tony, Ziva. Remember that?” he cocked his jaw for a moment, crossing his arms. “But we've got him back now. And if it takes a week, a month...even a year; if Gibbs staying with Tony means we get Tony back, then we give them as long as they need. 'Cause if we don't get him back...” he looked off to the side for a moment, then shook his head to clear the thought, “We just need to get him back, Zi.”  
Ziva's eyes darted around for a moment, and if Tim didn't know any better, he'd say she seemed close to tears. “I am... sorry, McGee,” she said in almost a whisper as she stood, still not meeting his eyes. “You are right. What I said...it was selfish. You are right, and I am just...”  
“Scared?” he said. She met his eyes then, and to McGee's surprise, she took a step forward and put her arms around him for a hug. He was dumbfounded; clearly. He wasn't sure what to do; it was an equation he'd not even begun to factor. But instinct kicked in rather quickly, as if it were Sarah that had been hugging him. He put his arms around her to return the hug. “Just wait and see,” he said, realizing that, in a way, Ziva was like a sister to him. “Once he's outta the hospital, he'll see everything he knows; the city, Gibbs' house...it might spark something; bring him back,” he didn't know who he was trying to convince more; Ziva or himself. “He's gonna be okay,” he told her. “We got him home; we'll get him back here, too...”


	14. Chapter 14

Ziva approached Tony's room quietly, listening to a conversation that was taking place inside.  
“But what if she gets here and we're not here and she thinks we're gone?” Tony said, worriedly.   
“Someone will let her know where you are, sugar,” the familiar voice of the nurse replied.  
“But she might not be able to stay long, and then I won't get to see her today.” Ziva chose that moment to enter, and Tony's eyes lit up. “Ziva! You made it!” he smiled.   
“I told you I would come,” she smiled and realized he was in a wheelchair. “Are you going somewhere?”  
“Yeah, we're going outside for a walk,” he replied. “Wanna come? They're takin' me down in a chair so I don't get too tired before I actually get there.”  
“I would love to walk with you, Tony,” she told him.   
Tony smiled and glanced up at Gibbs. “She's gonna walk with us, Gibbs.”  
“Yep, I heard,” he ruffed his hair. “Ready to go?” Tony nodded enthusiastically. 

*~.~*

As Tony was wheeled out of the giant sliding-glass doors out to the garden, he closed his eyes lightly against the bright sun. Feeling the warmth on his face, even amidst the cool of the evening. He breathed in, deeply.  
“You okay?” Gibbs asked.  
“Yeah,” he nodded and opened his eyes. “It's been so long since I was outside. I almost forgot what it smelled like.”  
“It smells nice, yes?” Ziva asked.  
“I feel like I'm taking my first breath,” he said, not knowing any other way to describe it. “Think they would move my bed out here?” he asked. “I wanna be out here all day.”  
“I think you can stay out here until it's time to sleep,” Gibbs suggested. “It'll start to get pretty cold in a while, once the sun goes down. But when we go home tomorrow, you can go out on my deck as often as you want.”  
“Okay,” he smiled.  
“You ready for your walk?” he asked.  
“Yeah,” he replied, moving to stand, and grateful he'd been allowed to put on some sweatpants and a teeshirt instead of wearing the gown out there. Gibbs and Ziva helped him to stand, and they began their walk as the nurse followed a bit behind them with the chair. The walked halfway around the garden without Tony needing any assistance.  
“I am impressed,” Ziva smiled as he walked confidently. “McGee told me that you'd be up and around, but I did not expect that you'd be so strong this soon.”   
Tony smiled proudly. “Did he tell you I get to go home tomorrow?”  
“He did! I am very happy for you, Tony.” She glanced at Gibbs, smirking as he did as well.  
“Anthony!” Tony turned to the sound of Ducky's voice and nearly lost his balance had Gibbs and Ziva not been there to hold onto.   
“Hi, Ducky!” Tony exclaimed, excitedly. “I didn't know you were coming, too!”  
“Timothy told me your tests came back much improved and that they're releasing you tomorrow. I thought I'd stop by and see you for myself. And here you are, walking about like you were good as new,” he smiled.  
“I am,” he claimed. “But I get tired pretty fast,” he told him, and the lot of them realized he was slightly out of breath. “I think I might need a break, actually,” he said as his legs began to give out.  
“Whoa there,” Gibbs caught him with strong arms as the nurse wheeled the chair up behind Tony. “Here we go; chair's right behind you,” they lowered him down.  
“I'm sorry... Hopefully, soon, I won't...need so much help,” he said as he tried to catch his breath.  
“It'll be soon,” Gibbs squeezed his shoulder. “Don't you worry. And we don't mind helpin' you, Tony.”  
“I'll go get you some water,” the nurse said, turning to walk back into the hospital.  
“Ya know,” Tony looked up at Gibbs as the three of them moved to stand in front of him, “Maybe they can give me bionic implants like The Six Million Dollar Man,” he grinned. “Then you won't even have to help me at all!”  
“Well,” Ducky chuckled, “The problem with that is, we don't have six million dollars, for one. And there's nothing wrong with your legs, or any other part of you. You just need to exercise and you'll be good as new in no time,” he smiled and patted his shoulder. Then he looked to Gibbs, “I uh...also came by to give you a bit of an update on the case.” He glanced at Ziva, and she seemed to get the hint.  
Looking down at Tony, she leaned in a bit, “Tony, would you like to come sit in the sun with me?” she pointed out an area in the middle of the garden that wasn't shaded. He nodded and gave her a shy smile.  
“I won't keep Jethro for very long, lad,” Ducky told him, and they parted ways; Gibbs and Ducky walking a bit farther down the path, and Ziva and Tony heading to a warm spot in the sun. Ziva secured the brakes on the chair. “Come sit in the grass with me,” she smiled, holding her hand out for him to grasp.   
“Are we allowed to?” Tony gave her an incredulous look.  
“I believe it was Tony who once told me to 'live a little',” she winked. He grinned and took her hand, and they were soon giggling as they sat in the grass amidst the white daisies. “You can smell them better down here,” she said.  
Tony inhaled long and deep through his nose. He closed his eyes as the smell of the daisies and the fresh grass filled his nostrils. In the distance, he could hear birds chirping and people talking and cars driving by. Things he couldn't hear when he was in the bad place...  
Soon, Ziva watched as he leaned toward her and laid his head on her shoulder, hugging both of his arms around Ziva's arm that was closest to him. “Thanks for being my friend, Ziva,” he whispered.  
Her heart nearly melted and she had to blink back a tear. “Thank you for being mine.”

*~.~*

“Shaun Cullen is being charged with first degree murder,” Ducky informed Gibbs as they walked. “And conspiracy to commit murder, along with the charge for assisting Michael in covering up the murder of Jessica Cullen. There's no chance for bail or parole before the trial.”  
“Good,” Gibbs nodded, stopping in the path and turning to face where Ziva and Tony sat.   
Ducky grew concerned as Gibbs' focus seemed to wander, “Are you alright, Jethro?”  
Gibbs looked at him and took a breath. “I'm worried about Tony. I'm not so sure this 'identity' is new.”  
“Whatever do you mean?” he narrowed his eyes.  
“He remembers seein' things that happened years ago, Duck. He's been sayin' he can see sometimes, when Tony is scared or sad. He remembers bein' sick with the plague. He remembers watchin' Kate die,” he met Ducky's eyes.  
Ducky's eyes darted about somewhere in the air between them, in thought. “Oh my. Well...that certainly was...unexpected.”  
“What's it mean, though?”  
“It could mean a number of things...or it could mean nothing. He may simply have displaced memories from our Tony, intermingled with his own. Or...there was another trauma in his life where this identity became separated from his own. But there are no records of any such trauma happening, and certainly nothing indicating he'd ever been treated in a psychiatric facility.”  
“What does this mean for his recovery, Ducky?” Gibbs asked, worriedly, as he looked across the garden at Tony, who was now resting his head on Ziva's shoulder.   
“I'm not exactly certain of that, Jethro,” he replied, regretfully. “It's something you should mention to the specialist you'll have coming to the house.”  
Gibbs nodded and his attention was drawn toward Tony again, just as a little girl with her head wrapped in bandages wheeled up to where they were sitting. He recognized her...and her toy. He began a quick pace toward them...

*~.~*

“Hi,” a little girl's voice pulled Tony from near sleep, and he turned to look up at her.  
“Hi,” he replied.  
“Hello,” Ziva said. “What is your name?”  
“Charlotte.”  
“Hello, Charlotte.”  
“What happened to your head?” Tony asked with a furrowed brow.  
“Nothin' anymore,” she said. “I had Rasmussen's encephalitis. They had to do surgery, but this is on 'cause the stitches are still in. I'm in the room two doors down from you,” she told him.  
“Really?” Tony asked.  
“Yup. And I'm real sorry my bear made you scared,” she frowned and looked down at her lap.   
“...What?” Tony cocked his head.  
“When the song was playin', I heard you get real scared, and I heard the man in your room say it was 'cause of my toy. I didn't know it would scare anybody.”  
Tony was vaguely aware of Gibbs coming toward them, slowing his pace as he listened to them talk.   
“It's okay,” Tony told her. “It didn't scare me; just made me remember somethin' bad that happened.”  
“Somethin' that made you sick and have to come to the hospital?” she asked. Tony nodded. “Are you gonna be okay?” she asked, eying the bandages on his wrists and the back of his neck.  
“Yep. I go home tomorrow. What about you? Are you gonna be okay now?”  
“That's what the doctors say, and my mom. But I've gotta stay a lot longer 'cause I gotta learn to walk all over again.”  
“You forgot how to walk?” Tony gave her an incredulous look.  
Charlotte giggled, “The sickness made me forget how to walk, Tony. But the sickness is gone now, so I can learn again.”   
“How'd you know my name?” he asked.  
“I heard the man say it, when you were crying...” she looked down at her bear.  
“How old are you, Charlotte?” Ziva asked, attempting to change the subject.  
“I'm ten and a half,” she smiled.  
Tony smiled big, “Me too!”  
Charlotte broke into a fit of giggles, “You're funny, Tony!” Tony bit his lip, remembering that he didn't really look ten years old at all.  
“Come now, Charlotte,” a woman said as she approached her chair and gripped the handles. “It's time for you medication and a nap.”  
“Aw...okay. Bye, Tony!” she waved.   
“See ya later,” he said softly and waved back. He looked up at Gibbs as he reached them, blocking the sun. “That was Charlotte,” he told him.  
“I heard,” he smirked.  
“She's nice,” he looked down as he plucked some of the grass with his fingers.  
Gibbs crouched down in front of him, “Somethin' wrong?”  
“She can't walk,” he said. “She's gotta learn all over again.” He met Gibbs' eyes, “Guess I'm pretty lucky, huh?”  
Gibbs mouth curled up on one side. “C'mon, Tony,” he ruffed his hair as he stood and held out a hand, “Before the nurse comes back an' catches you in the grass.”

*~.~*

It was late evening when Tony agreed to return to the room, and immediately fell asleep once his head hit the pillow. Gibbs was pulling the blanket up over his shoulders when he heard a light tapping on the door. He turned to see Charlotte's mother leaning up against the trim with a small smile on her face.  
“I was hoping to catch him while he was awake,” she whispered.  
“Just fell asleep a couple of minutes ago,” Gibbs replied, stepping a bit closer so they could continue whispering.  
“I'm Karen,” she held her hand out and Gibbs took it.  
“Gibbs,” he introduced himself. She nodded, as if she'd already known.  
“I just...wanted to thank him. I haven't heard Charlie laugh like that in a really long time. I was beginning to think I wouldn't again,” her eyes shone a bit, but she smiled and shook her head to keep any threatening tears away.  
“Tony has that affect on people,” he smiled. “I heard her talkin' to him. She's a real smart girl.”  
“Yes, she is. I'm very lucky. We're both very lucky. I was terrified about the surgery, but she's doing so well, I think it was the right decision. Difficult...but right,” she smiled.  
Gibbs cocked his head, “The right ones usually are.”  
She nodded, and there was a silence that filled the air as the both looked over at Tony's sleeping form curled up facing away from them. “I take it, since he calls you by name, that he's not your son?”  
Gibbs smirked, “No, he's not. We work together. But...I'd be proud to call him my son.”  
“That's sweet,” she grinned. “Though you don't look old enough to be his father.”  
He smiled at that, “Flattery...will only get you so far, Karen.”  
She silently laughed. “We um...” her face grew serious, “Didn't mean to eavesdrop, Gibbs. But being cooped up in a small room for weeks without a television, you tend to start listening to what's going on on the floor.” He narrowed his eyes as she continued to talk. “I don't know what happened to Tony, but I wanted you to know...Charlotte's been praying for him since he came here; for whatever it's worth,” she gave him a small smile. “And for as long as we've been in and out of hospitals, she's never talked to anyone else. She's always been a good judge of character, and she seems to have grown pretty fond of him.”  
“He usually doesn't click very well with kids,” he smirked. “I think he'll be surprised to hear that.”  
“When he comes to visit his nurse, Tara, Charlie would be thrilled if he came in to say hello.”  
“We'll do that, Karen. It was good to meet you.”

11 00 11 00 11

...The Bad Place...

Tony awoke to a banging sound; an insistent pounding that echoed over and over in his head. He groaned and covered his ears, curling into himself where he lay under the table. He couldn't tell where the noise was coming from, but it wouldn't stop.   
Part of him thought maybe Cullen had accidentally locked himself out. He hadn't seen him in days, and the darkness, though cold and lonely, was better than whatever Cullen would do to him if he came back.   
Try as he might, Tony hadn't been able to move out from under the table. And truth be told, he didn't try very hard. Knowing his luck, as soon as he did, Cullen would walk in and find him, and he couldn't chance that; he couldn't take any more...  
The pounding grew louder and more persistent. It seemed like someone was yelling on the other side. But all Tony could think was that Cullen was going to bang that door down, come in and start doing more horrid things to him. All he'd been waiting for, was to die... If Cullen came in, he'd give him water and just enough of something to keep him alive for more torture. But Tony couldn't take it again. No more. He wanted to die, and he'd waited for so long. But death never came...  
He pressed his hands tighter against his ears. And he cried...

11 00 11 00 11

When Gibbs woke up, the sun was shining through the window. As he stretched, he glanced at his watch to find it was nearing 0700. He looked over at Tony. To his surprise, Tony was awake; or at least he seemed to be. His eyes were open and looking up and to the left.   
Gibbs tried to find what he might be looking at, but there was nothing in that line of vision. He stood and made his way to the bed. Tony didn't flinch. He kept staring, almost as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. It gave Gibbs a chill and he reached a hand out to his shoulder.  
“Tony?” he called quietly.  
Tony blinked and looked over at him. For a moment, he seemed a bit confused. But then he focused and gave Gibbs a small smile. “G'morning, Gibbs.”  
“Mornin',” Gibbs raised his brows. “What were you doin' just now?”  
Tony's eyes darted around before settling back on Gibbs. “Trying to find Tony,” he said in a small voice.   
Gibbs narrowed his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, “How?”  
Tony looked at him for a long moment before answering, “I go to the door. But it's locked,” he looked down at the blanket. “I know he's inside, and I keep pounding on the door, yelling for him to open it, but he doesn't hear me.”  
A look of shame crossed over Tony's face, and Gibbs took hold of his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You tried, and that's what matters,” he told him. “Maybe he'll hear you next time.”  
Tony considered his words and his eyes wandered over to the window and suddenly grew wide. “It's morning,” he said, realizing what it meant, now.  
“Yep.”  
“I get to go home today,” he looked at Gibbs for verification.  
“Yep, ya do,” he gave him a small smile.


	15. Chapter 15

Tony said his goodbyes to Tara and the other nurses and doctors before he and Gibbs got into Abby's car to ride home. Gibbs sat in the back for the sole purpose of letting Tony ride shotgun. He wanted Tony to see the city on the ride to his house, and observe his reaction, which he could do from the backseat inconspicuously.   
Gibbs was glad he'd told Abby to take it easy on the welcome-home decorations that she'd inevitably have put up for Tony. He didn't think a full-out party was something wise at the moment. But she did mention that she'd made a cake and put up a banner and some balloons. This was acceptable; as long as he wasn't going to have to sweep up endless piles of confetti for the next week.  
Tony was eerily silent as they traveled down the road. He had his elbow up on the window and his chin resting on his arm as he watched the scenery whipping past them. It wasn't like Tony to be quiet; ever really. But especially not in the car. Any empty silent space was usually filled with Tony's voice talking about movies or reminiscent pastimes.  
“You okay, Tony?” Abby asked with a concerned look on her face as she glanced over at him. He nodded without looking over. “You're awfully quiet. It's kinda scaring me.”  
Tony turned his head to look at her then. “My dad doesn't let me talk in the car,” he told her quietly. “He says it's distracting and could cause an accident. Last time I did, he pulled the car over and...” he stopped abruptly and turned back to look out the window as if he hadn't even started the sentence.   
Abby glanced at Gibbs in the rear view, who hadn't missed a thing that was said. “Well, you can talk as much as you want in my car, Tony,” she told him as they pulled up to the house.   
Tony straightened as he looked at the house; his eyes flashing with recognition. “This is Gibbs' house,” he said.  
“You remember being here before?” Abby asked as she turned the car off.   
Tony nodded as they all got out of the car, “Tony feels safe when he comes here.” Abby and Gibbs shared another glance as they stepped up on either side of Tony and began to walk with him toward the front door.  
“I got some food for you both,” Abby told them. “It's enough for a couple of days, anyway. I wasn't exactly sure what you like, Tony. I mean, besides pizza...” she grinned.  
Tony smiled at her, “I do like pizza. I like lots of stuff. Especially spaghetti and meatballs.”  
“Well, good! 'Cause I totally got stuff to make that,” she smirked. “Tim and Ziva are gonna come by after work with pizza, this evening. So, I think pasta should probably wait until tomorrow. But I got stuff to make sandwiches, and there's cereal and milk, apples and veggies, juice...junk food...”  
“All that for just two days?” Tony cocked his head as they entered the house.  
“Well, usually you've got a pretty big appetite, mister,” he squeezed his hand.   
“Especially with the junk food,” Gibbs quirked a brow.  
“What's this?” Tony walked in to see the balloons and banner. He smiled big when he saw his name on it. “This is for me?”  
“'Course it is, Tony,” Abby smiled. “This is a huge day; you getting outta the hospital!”  
“You did this?”  
“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Tim, Ziva, Ducky, Gibbs and Jimmy all chipped in, of course. There's a surprise on the kitchen table,” she jumped on her toes a bit in excitement to see his reaction and followed him when he made his way there. Gibbs kept up with him, just in case he lost his footing along the way.  
Tony froze in front of the cake. There was a giant green Yoda in the center. Under him were the words, 'Welcomed home, you are, Tony.' And the rest of the cake was black icing with white stars. He stared at it for several long moments in awe. “Did you...make this?”  
“McGee told me how much you liked watching Star Wars with him. He helped me to find a template to make Yoda,” Abby said. “I hope you like it.”  
Tony turned to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her middle in an embrace. “I love it, Abby. Thank you so much.”  
“Anything for you, Tony,” she replied, returning the hug.  
“I'm gonna wait for everyone to get here later before I have some,” he said as he pulled away. “I'm not very hungry right now anyway.”  
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.  
“Yeah,” he replied, unconvincingly. “My stomach hurts a little. But I'm okay.”  
“Like...'ya might puke' kinda hurt?” she asked with a furrowed brow.  
“No,” he shook his head. “Like someone's steppin' on it, maybe,” he told her. “And my head feels funny.”  
“C'mon, an' sit down on the couch for a bit,” Gibbs said, taking Tony's arm gently and leading him to the living room. “Abs, grab him somethin' to drink.”  
“Sure thing, Bossman,” Abby replied.  
Tony let out a small giggle, “Does she always call you that?”  
“Sometimes,” Gibbs smirked as he sat Tony down in the middle of the couch. “It's because I'm not directly her boss, exactly.”  
“And,” Abby added as she walked in with a tall glass of juice, “It's a lot less conspicuous than calling him 'Superman',” she winked and handed Tony the glass. Gibbs looked at Abby with raised brows and a look of amusement on his face.  
Tony smiled as he took the glass, and he drank half of it before setting it down on the coffee table. “Thanks. I think I'm okay now,” Tony said. “Musta just been thirsty.”  
“You sure?” Gibbs asked, narrowing his eyes as he searched his face for the truth  
“Just a little tired, even though I really wanna stay up right now and go out on your deck.”  
“Sun hits the deck just right, right about this time of day,” Gibbs told him. “If you want, you can take a nap out there. It's nice out.”  
“Really?” he asked, then looked to Abby, “You don't mind if I go to sleep right now, do you?”  
“I've gotta head back to work anyway. But I'll be back later with the others. So you rest up, and we'll see you around dinnertime,” she leaned down and kissed the top of his head.  
“Bye, Abby,” he said, and watched her as she headed out the door.

*~.~*

It'd been a little over an hour since Tony fell asleep in the reclined deck chair. He'd looked so much more peaceful than when he'd slept in the hospital. It seemed that being out in the fresh air really was doing something good for his psyche.   
Gibbs had gone inside half an hour ago, not taking his eyes off of Tony for longer than a couple of minutes at a time as he sat at the kitchen table going through piles of mail. Most of it was bills; though McGee had set up an automatic online bill-pay system for him. He opted to keep the paper bills coming so he could keep his checkbook straight. He filled in the amounts of each, tossing the bills into the trash once he was through with them.  
He tossed junk mail after junk mail in behind them, and stopped only when he came across a letter from his father. Gibbs paused a moment as he held the envelope in front of him. He thought about how Tony's father never returned or even acknowledged the phone calls he and his team had made about Tony having gone missing. And that's when he remembered he'd forgotten to call his own father since they'd found Tony.  
Gibbs opened the envelope and unfolded the short letter.

Leroy,  
I hope everything is going well, son. I know you're busy and probably stressed to the core. I know how much Tony means to you, even if you don't say as much.   
If you need me to come, you just give me a call. I've got someone to watch the store if need be.   
Take care, Leroy. I mean it.  
-Dad.

He thought back on the call he'd made to him about a week and a half ago...  
10 days ago...  
“Hey, dad,” Gibbs' voice conveyed how tired he was.  
“Leroy? You okay, son? It's been a while since ya gave your old man a call.”  
“I'm sorry about that... It's uh...been a pretty tough few weeks.”  
“What's going on? You sound like you haven't slept in days. Somethin' happen?” Jackson knew his son well enough to know when he sounded upset. It rarely happened that he allowed it to show in any way. But right now, the hesitation and shaky breath coming through the receiver was a telltale sign, if anything was. “Leroy, what's wrong?”  
“Dad, I screwed up...bad,” his voice cracked as he spoke, and he didn't even bother to care.  
“How, son?”  
“I lost one of my agents; he was kidnapped... It was my fault; I made him go alone...”  
“Which one of them?”  
“Tony.”  
“Tony's a good kid, Leroy. He's strong-willed and tough as nails, like you. I'm sure he's okay, wherever he is. And you and your team are the best agents out there; you'll find him.”  
“It's been three weeks, dad!” his anger was toward himself, not his father. Jackson knew this.  
“You'll find him, Leroy.”  
“There's nothin', dad. Nothin' to help us know a damn thing about who took him or where he is. I...I don't know what to do...” his voice became almost to quiet for Jackson to hear.  
“Now listen here, son; you don't give up. Never have. You'll find your agent. Just don't give up hope.”  
There was a long silence on either end of the line. “Just hope it's not too late, when I do...”

Present time...

Gibbs pulled out his phone and stood as he dialed his father's number, and made his way toward the deck door to take a closer look at Tony as the other line rang. Tony was facing away from him, but he could see that he was still seemingly sleeping soundly.  
“Leroy?” Jackson's voice sounded on the other line.  
“Dad,” he replied. “I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. Been a...pretty long week.”  
“I'd imagine so. Everything okay, son?” the underlying question wasn't missed by Gibbs.  
“Yeah, sort of.”  
“Sort of? How's the search going?”  
“We found him, Dad. Barely hangin' on to life when we did, but he hung on.”  
“I'm so relieved to hear that, Leroy,” the relief was evident in his voice. “Where was he?”  
“He'd been taken underground; held there by a madman whom we didn't know the FBI was lookin' for. He'd killed two others before taking Tony.” He went on to explain everything to Jackson.  
“Good God,” he responded. “That's a lot to take on, son. I'd be happy to come help out; I do like Tony, myself. He's a good man.”  
“I appreciate the offer, dad, and if I thought it'd be a good idea right now, I'd take you up on it. Tell you the truth, I'm not sure what would be best.”  
“Well, ya can't leave the rest of your team behind for very long, Leroy. I'm sure they understand why you're doin' what you're doin', but this is probably hard on them, too. What with their friend bein' ill, and their leader bein' absent.”  
“Not leavin' him, dad. Made him a promise I'd stay with him, and until he's better, I'm not gonna go back to work.”  
“You're still blamin' yourself for him goin' missin', I see.”  
“Well, dad... I'm more concerned whether or not he does,” he told him.  
“That little boy version of Tony pulls all his vital information from your Tony,” Jackson said. “Now if your Tony blamed you, do you honestly think that boy would want you there with him?”  
Gibbs was quiet for a minute as he pondered that. “I dunno, dad...”  
“Well, start knowin', son! Now you're gonna do what you wanna do, I know. And I'll support whatever that might be. But if you need me there...for ANY reason, you call me. Understand?”  
“Yeah, dad, I hear you,” he bowed his head and scratched the back of his neck.  
“Good. Now, you take care, Leroy.”  
“Dad?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.”  
There was a brief pause on the other line. “I love ya, son.”  
“Love you, too, dad,” he replied, then ended the call and looked out to Tony again. Setting the phone on the table, he decided to go out and see that it was still warm enough for him to be out there without a blanket.   
As he walked out onto the deck and rounded the chair, he saw that Tony's eyes were partially open. The familiar chill he'd felt the last time he saw him like this, didn't last quite as long. He knew, this time, what he was trying to do. He wasn't sure it would actually do anything, really. But he'd at least let him try.  
Gibbs sank down in the chair across from him and waited...

...The Bad Place...

Ten-year old Tony looked like ten-year old Tony here, in his mind, as he pounded on the door to the bad place. The thing was, he didn't really know that this door looked like the actual door; he'd only ever seen it from the inside. But in his head, this is what it looked like; a dark green painted wood door, apparently reinforced with some kind of magic, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn that handle.  
Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes closed, and remembered something his mother once told him. “If you can tell that you're dreaming while you're still dreaming, you can go anywhere you want to go...anywhere at all in the whole wide world...”  
As frightening as he knew it was, Tony had to get himself inside of that room. So, with every fiber of bravery he could muster, he imagined; remembered what that room looked like; what it smelled like...  
When he opened his eyes, he was there, inside the room. He took a few breaths, suddenly regretting having had this idea. But then he remembered what Gibbs had told him; that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him again.  
“Who are you?” the older Tony's voice rang out, weak and small from beneath the table.  
The boy crouched down and met his eyes. “Don't you rec'nize me?” he asked.  
“Should I? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here... You need to run away now, while you still can...before he comes back!”  
“I'm okay,” he replied. “And so are you. Ya just need to come out of there so we can go.”  
“I can't...I can't, kid. I can't even move out from under here. Can't even move, period. It's too late for me, kid. Just go, save yourself...”  
“It's not too late. Gibbs saved you,” the boy told him.  
“Damnit...” Tony cursed. “This...this is just great. Hallucinations, now... Why can't I just die?”  
“You're not hallucinating! I'm real! And Gibbs did save you! We're just waiting for you to come out! Why won't you come out, Tony? You're supposed to be the brave one!” he cried.  
“Just...just leave me alone,” he closed his eyes. “Lemme die in peace. Last thing I need is...false hope from a...preschooler...”  
“But they want you to come back,” the boy cried. “They need you to... Please, Tony! I dunno how to do it...”

The Deck

Gibbs grew concerned as tears started to fall down Tony's cheeks. He pushed out of the chair and crouched down beside Tony, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Tony?” At the lack of response from Tony, Gibbs' worry grew. “Tony!” he shouted, shaking him a bit.  
Tony sucked in a quick breath as he was jolted back to reality, and he focused on Gibbs. “I...I'm sorry,” he cried. “He won't listen... He doesn't believe me!”  
“What do you mean?” Gibbs asked, trying to calm him, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.  
“Tony didn't believe me when I told him you saved him. He said I was just a hallucination and that he just wanted to die in peace... What if he dies, Gibbs?” he met his eyes with pure fear. “What if he dies and I'm all that's left?”  
“Hey,” Gibbs grasped both sides of Tony's face. “You listen to me. Tony's not gonna die, and you're not gonna be alone. You got that? He's just scared right now and doesn't know what's goin' on. But we'll figure this out, okay? Together. No more tryin' to do this on you own. Got it?”  
Tony considered him for a long moment, then nodded, swiping at his face for any remnants of tears. “Sorry I cried,” he whispered.  
Gibbs shook his head, still keeping eye contact with him. “I bet a shower will make ya feel better,” he said, changing the subject. “Not to mention smell better,” he smirked.  
Tony giggled; a reaction Gibbs was hoping for. “I don't smell, Gibbs!”   
“Well, I should hope you don't smell me,” he replied. “I took a shower already.”  
It took Tony a few seconds and a momentary look of confusion, before he understood what Gibbs had done to twist the words. Then a grin and another laugh came out of him. “I mean I don't stink!”  
“Ya smell like the hospital,” he retorted. “And you're still wearin' what you wore home. All your stuff is set up upstairs, including all the fancy shmancy stuff you use in the shower. So c'mon; I'll help you up there.”  
Tony seemed excited about this prospect, and he gladly stood from the chair and followed Gibbs into the house and up the stairs to the guest room. When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was the TV and the stack of movies beside it. “Whoa! Are all these mine?” he asked as he looked through them.  
“Yep, sure are.”  
Tony turned around and looked at the bed. “Did they bring this over, too?”  
Gibbs let out a small laugh, “Nope, that's mine. But you're free to use it for as long as you want.”  
Tony smiled, then hopped into the bed; head landing on the pile of fluffy pillows, and he smiled. “This is most comfy bed ever,” he claimed. “I like my room.”  
“Yeah?” Gibbs smirked and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad. 'Cause I want you to be happy in it.”  
Tony dipped his head to look at Gibbs. Then, suddenly, he pushed up from the pillows, and before Gibbs knew it, Tony had plastered himself against his side, hugging Gibbs tightly. “I love you, Gibbs,” he said quietly. Gibbs bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. Wherever this ten-year-old Tony came from, he was so appreciative of everything placed in front of him; loving to everyone he met, that it was hard to understand what had made him that way.  
Tony had told them all stories of his childhood, and for what it'd seemed, it was fairly lonely. He grew up with a lot of money, so never wanted for anything...except maybe love and attention.  
Maybe that did explain everything after all; Tony just wanted to be accepted.   
Gibbs couldn't help but to care about Tony; kid or not. He'd always thought of him as his own. He reached a hand up to the back of Tony's neck and kissed the top of his head. “Love you, too, Tony,” he said, quietly enough that he thought maybe Tony hadn't heard it. But he felt Tony's arms squeeze around him even tighter.


	16. Chapter 16

After drying off and slipping on his boxers, Tony wiped the fog from the mirror with his towel and looked at himself. He scratched the stubble on his face. Biting his lip, he searched the counter-top for a shaver.  
“You okay in there?” Gibbs called from the other side of the door.  
“Yeah,” Tony replied, then opened the door. “Do you have a shaver? I wanna shave...”  
Gibbs raised a brow, “You remember how?”  
Tony's eyes darted around as his brow furrowed. “Not...exactly. But I had a pretend one once. I kinda know what to do.”  
Gibbs smirked and held up a finger as he left the room to retrieve Tony's request. When he returned, he had two shavers and a can of shaving cream. “Got a bit of stubble, myself,” he said as he entered the bathroom and took a place in front of the large mirror beside Tony. “So, you just do what I do. And pay attention, 'cause if you do it wrong, you could end up cuttin' yourself. Got it?”  
Tony nodded, eyes a bit wide as he observed in anticipation. Gibbs put a bit of the cream in his hand and handed the can to Tony, who did the same. He followed the exact administrations of smearing the cream over his face and picked up the shaver when Gibbs picked up his own.  
“Now, ya gotta use both hands,” Gibbs instructed. “One to hold your skin taught so the razor doesn't catch and cut,” he demonstrated and then turned to watch as Tony made his first attempt, and was successful.   
“I did it,” Tony smiled. “This is easy,” he continued, every now and then glancing at Gibbs' reflection as the older man continued as well. He also looked from Gibbs' hair to his own. He remembered how Abby said she liked his hair long like this, but he didn't really like it much at all. He liked Gibbs' hair...  
Gibbs finished well before him and rinsed his face, patting it dry with a towel afterward. “You're doin' good, Tony,” he told him. He heard a knock on the door downstairs. “I'm gonna go get that. You okay to finish up?”  
Tony nodded with a smile. “Thanks, Gibbs,” he told him as the older man left to go answer the door. Tony finished shaving, rinsed and dried, then looked at himself in the mirror again. He didn't like the fact that Cullen had kept his hair this way; it needed to go.   
Thinking about Gibbs' cut, he again picked up the razor and took to work...

*~.~*

“Since when do you lock the door, Jethro?” Fornell asked as Gibbs opened the door.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, but smirked, “Since I'm not the only one here. What do ya need, Tobias?”   
“Can't a friend come by to visit?”  
“Haven't we done this before?” Gibbs turned and walked toward the kitchen, Fornell snickering as he came inside and closed the door behind him before following.  
“Came to see how DiNozzo was doin'. Heard you brought him here from the hospital.”  
“Health-wise?” he said as he poured himself and Fornell a cup of coffee. “He's gettin' there. Otherwise, no change.”  
“What's the plan, then?” he asked as he followed Gibbs out to the living room, where Gibbs set both cups on the coffee table.  
“Starting tomorrow, there'll be a psychologist comin' here to the house to talk to him.”  
“Got cream an' sugar, Gibbs?” he raised his brows as he looked at the cup of clearly black coffee.  
Gibbs sighed and went back to the kitchen. Tobias looked up at the staircase as a now-dressed Tony made his way down. He squinted when he saw the haircut, clearly copied from Gibbs', and then he smiled. Tony stopped in the living room as Gibbs set down the cream and sugar on the coffee table. Tobias couldn't hold it in any longer, “Well, aren't you adorable...”  
Gibbs looked over at Tony and realized what he'd done. After smacking Tobias upside the head, only receiving a small chuckle from the agent, he stepped up to Tony and appraised the kid's handy work. Tony had given himself a Marine haircut, except that the top remained long, seeing as he didn't have much to work with besides the shaver.  
Gibbs smirked when he realized Tony was waiting for some kind of approval. “Not a bad job, Tony. Next time, let me take ya to a barber?”   
Tony grinned and looked over at Tobias. Suddenly, he remembered something, “Oh! I have something for you,” he said before turning around to go back up the stairs.   
Tobias raised his brows and looked at Gibbs. “Don't tell me he colored me a picture...” Gibbs glared at him and watched as Tony came back down and held out the Mickey spoon.  
“I put it in my bag so it wouldn't get lost. Tell Emily I said thanks,” Tony told him. Fornell gave him a small smile, and Tony looked over at the coffee table as he breathed in the aroma. “Can I have coffee, Gibbs?”  
“You like coffee?” Gibbs cocked his head.  
“Sometimes my Great-Aunt Lucy gave me coffee. She put lots of sugar and cream in it. Hazelnut cream! It's really good...”  
“Yeah. Abby brought some of that over here from your apartment,” Gibbs said. “You can have a small cup; not sure you should have any yet,” he clarified as he went back into the kitchen. Tony followed him. “If you go bouncin' off the walls, this won't happen again,” he quirked a brow.  
“If I can bounce off the walls, that means I'd have energy,” Tony said, a bit breathlessly as he sat down at the table. “And then maybe I wouldn't get so tired going up and down stairs.”  
Gibbs set the half cup of coffee down in front of Tony, looking at him with concern. “Stomach hurt at all?”  
“Nope,” he replied as he blew carefully over the cup, waiting for the steam to die down a bit.  
“Here,” Gibbs pulled a quart of milk from the fridge and poured some into the cup. “That outta cool it down some. Why don't we go sit in the living room,” he suggested as he put the carton back in the fridge.  
Tony stood and brought his cup out, choosing to sit in the chair across from the couch where Fornell was sitting, and Gibbs sat on the other side of the couch.   
“You plannin' on goin' back to work soon?” Fornell asked Gibbs.  
“Not yet,” Gibbs replied before taking a sip of his coffee. “But I'm pretty sure I explained that to you, Tobias.”  
“Yeah, ya did. I've just got this case we're workin' on that suddenly crossed over into NCIS territory and God forbid I gotta work with someone else's team.”  
“So work with McGee and David. It's not like they've got a big caseload right now. They're workin' cold cases and assisting other teams with backup. Hell, I'd rather them work with you at this point. They might get soft,” he smirked.  
“Is it 'cause of me?” Tony asked in a small voice. Gibbs looked over at him with a raised brow. “That you can't go to work...is it 'cause of me?”  
Fornell cleared his throat, “I've uh...gotta get going.” He stood, “Thanks for the coffee, Jethro. And it's good to see you home from the hospital, Tony.”   
Gibbs only nodded as Fornell left. Then his attention went back to Tony. “I can go back to work,” he told him. “But I'm choosing to stay home, Tony.”  
“Because of me...” Tony chewed his bottom lip.   
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. Then he crooked a finger, motioning for him to come sit beside him on the couch. Tony ducked his head, but stood from the chair, placing his cup down on the table before maneuvering to the couch and plopping down beside Gibbs. “Not because of you,” he told him. “I'm stayin' for you. There's a difference.”  
Tony looked at him skeptically, or perhaps with confusion. “I don't understand. Your work is important.”  
“Not more important than my family.”  
“My dad says work is most important,” Tony replied. “Some people's work is watchin' kids while moms and dads do their own work,” he looked down at his lap before pulling his knees up under his chin.  
“Hey,” Gibbs grabbed Tony's chin and turned his face to look at him, “Your dad's wrong. Nothing is more important than family, Tony.”  
Tony looked shocked, at first, that Gibbs said his father was wrong. But then even more so as realization hit him about what else Gibbs had said. “You think I'm family?”  
The corner of Gibbs' mouth turned up and he nodded. “Only way to explain why I'd wanna stay home from work, right?”  
“My dad never ever stayed home from work for me. Not even when I was sick. Not even when the nanny couldn't come...”  
“You don't have to worry about him anymore, okay?” Gibbs tried to reassure him, moving his hand to the back of Tony's neck and giving a light squeeze.  
“I wish you'd'a been my dad, Gibbs,” he said in almost a whisper. “'Cause then...” his voice trailed off and his eyes focused elsewhere.  
“'Cause then what?” Gibbs pressed. Tony ducked his head. “You can tell me, Tony. I promise, whatever you say, it's not gonna change how I feel, okay? I'm not gonna stop caring about you.” Gibbs cursed whatever the hell Tony's father had done to make Tony feel this way as a child.  
Slowly, Tony turned to look at Gibbs. “'Cause then I wouldn't have been scared,” he told him. “And Tony wouldn't be in this mess right now,” he looked down at his knees again.   
Gibbs wasn't sure about the logic behind that, but he chose to put off getting into that discussion for the time being. His eyes focused on the ratty bandages on Tony's wrists. “I think it's time we changed the dressings,” Gibbs said. “Probably wasn't supposed to get wet,” he smirked, letting Tony know he wasn't in any kind of trouble for having done so. “Will you let me change them? The team will be here in a little bit.”  
Tony nodded and watched as Gibbs got up to retrieve what was needed to complete this task. He came back to the table with a basin they'd been given at the hospital, a small pitcher of cool water, a washcloth and some fresh gauze-wrap and medical tape.   
“Which one first?” Gibbs asked him as he set the items on the table and sat down facing a bit toward Tony. Tony held out his left hand. “Hold it over the basin,” he instructed, pulling the table a little closer. He did as he was told, then closed his eyes and turned away as Gibbs began to undo the wet bandage. “What's wrong? Does it hurt?”  
“Not really. But I don't wanna see it. If I see it, it'll hurt worse,” he replied.   
Gibbs continued to unravel the bandage, “Well, if I hurt you at all, you tell me and I'll stop. But all I'm gonna do is rinse it off, dry it and re-wrap, alright?” Tony nodded, still not looking. “So,” Gibbs thought of a way to distract Tony from the administrations, with conversation, “What made you decide to do that to your hair?”  
Tony swallowed. “I...I didn't like it long, even though Abby did. I didn't like how the bad man kept it. I wanted to make it shorter. And I like your hair.”  
“So you thought you'd make yours the same.”  
“I cut my hair once when my dad wasn't home. If he'd have noticed, he woulda killed me. But he was gone for two weeks, and by then, it grew back.” He paused for a moment. “You're not mad at me, are you?”  
Gibbs smirked, “Technically, you're a grown man, Tony. You can do whatever you want to your hair.” Gibbs froze for a moment when he got the bandage off all the way. He hadn't seen the full damage before now. The redness and swelling surrounded the heavy dark lines that were held closed by several butterfly sutures surrounding the circumference of his wrist.   
He swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat when he thought about how that injury came to be, and composed himself before grabbing the pitcher and slowly pouring the cool water over the abused skin.  
“That feels good,” Tony said. Gibbs kept pouring a little longer than necessary before he set it back down to dry off the wound.  
“Let's let it breathe a bit before I wrap it back up,” he told him. “Gimme your other one.” Tony did as he was told and placed his right wrist over the basin...

11 00 11 00 11

Tony had fallen asleep on the couch a little bit before the gang arrived with pizza. They were all ushered into the kitchen and talked in whispers so that he could continue to nap for a while.  
“Did you cut his hair?” Ziva asked Gibbs.  
“He did it himself,” Gibbs smirked. “Said he didn't like how Cullen kept it. I didn't know until afterward, so don't look at me like that, Abby,” he said, knowing she was giving him a look from the corner of his eye.  
“Did I say anything?” Abby defended. “I think it's cute,” she grinned. “He wanted to match you.”  
“Tony's gonna be pissed,” McGee said with a slight smirk. “Not that there's...anything wrong with...that kind of haircut,” he said when Gibbs looked over at him. “It's just not...ya know...what Tony usually goes for...”  
“I think it is rather endearing,” Ziva said as she gazed at the sleeping agent with a smirk.  
“Go ahead and wake him, Abs,” Gibbs told her. “If he gets up and thinks he's missed out on visiting with you all, he might be reluctant to go back to sleep tonight.”  
Abby headed into the living room as the rest of them retrieved plates and drinks. She sat down on the edge of the couch beside Tony and brushed her hand against his cheek. “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” she said softly.   
Tony groggily turned his head and opened his eyes to look up at her. When she came into focus, he smiled, “Hi, Abby.”  
“Hey. How are you feeling?”  
“Good. Is everyone here?”  
“Yup.”  
“Do I smell pizza?”  
“Sure do. One has your favorite: sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese.”  
Tony pushed up from the couch and stood with Abby's assistance. “Can I have cake first? I've been waiting all day... I want a piece with Yoda.”  
“Sure, Tony,” she grinned. “It's your party, after all.”

*~.~*

The team had decided to follow Tony's lead and have cake first. Once they'd finished with that, the pizza boxes were opened and slices were piled onto plates.   
The team talked as if nothing had ever changed, and Tony seemed to pay close attention and participate, wherever possible, in the discussion of random things. McGee had even started a discussion about movies, which even Ziva had some input about, since her attending of the film class. Gibbs had remained mostly silent, observing Tony's reactions. He was reminded of a kid excited to be at the grown-up table. But what he'd really been hoping for, was an appearance of their Tony at the familiarity of the conversation.  
What he noticed, instead, was how Tony suddenly looked down at his plate once he'd swallowed the last bite of his slice of pizza. It was in that moment that Gibbs recalled the fact that they'd found remnants of Tony's favorite pizza in Cullen's fridge.  
Tony stood abruptly from the table and made his way to the bathroom.   
“You okay, Tony?” McGee asked, being the only other person to have noticed.  
Gibbs stood and went to follow Tony, suddenly hearing the agent as he retched into the toilet. He rounded the corner to the bathroom door that Tony hadn't even bothered to close, and saw him on his knees in front of it, gripping the counter's edge as he heaved.   
Gibbs entered the room and shut the door before sitting on the edge of the tub. “You okay?” he asked. Tony shook his head and Gibbs saw that he had tears streaking his face, before he heaved again. “Your stomach hurt before you ate?” he asked as Tony breathed.   
“No,” Tony said with a sob.  
Gibbs laid a hand on his back. “Talk to me. Tell me what's goin' on.”  
Tony shook his head as another sob escaped him. “I can't,” he said. “I don't want to-” he began to heave again, though nothing else was coming up.  
“Okay, Tony. Just calm down. Just breathe, okay?” he stood to grab a washcloth and wet it with cool water. He waited until Tony finished and rocked back to sit on the floor up against the tub. Then Gibbs crouched down and ran the cool cloth over Tony's face; forehead, cheeks, then mouth. “I'll get you some water. I'll be right back,” he told him as he stood and left the room.  
“Boss, is he okay?” McGee asked from where he stood outside of the bathroom.  
“Not sure, McGee. I don't think he's sick; just reacting,” he told him as he continued into the kitchen. He was surprised to see that the girls had cleaned everything up, for the most part. As he filled a glass halfway with cool water, they came up on either side of him with question in their eyes. “This isn't because of anything you did,” he told them. “Just been a big day.”  
“Did he eat too much junk food, ya think?” Abby asked with a worried brow.  
“No, Abs,” he kissed her forehead. “Don't think it had to do with that.” He turned to face all of them. “Thanks for comin' tonight. I know he was happy to see you all.”  
“You will let us know how he is doing, in the morning?” Ziva asked.   
“Sure, Ziver,” he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I need to get back to him,” he started back toward the bathroom where McGee was keeping silent vigil outside the door.   
“You want me to stay and help, Boss?” he asked.  
Gibbs considered the offer for a moment. “Wait in the living room,” he told him. “I'll let ya know.” McGee nodded and quickly headed out to the other room as Gibbs reentered the bathroom. Tony had his knees pulled up to his chest; face wet again with tears as he stared off blankly into space. Gibbs knew this look, all too well.   
Setting the glass on the counter, he quickly went to Tony's side, crouching down and taking his shoulders, “Hey, hey, Tony!” he said as he shook him gently. “What'd I say about this? No more by yourself.”  
Tony blinked rapidly and met his eyes, “You don't understand, Gibbs,” he shook his head as he cried. “He's the strong one. He's the one who can do this; not me.”  
“Tony-”  
“No! This is...this is why I made him...” he told him. Gibbs narrowed his eyes as he pieced together what he was being told. “This is why I made him...”


	17. Chapter 17

Gibbs remained silent, possibly out of shock, and handed Tony the water. Tony took it, rinsed out his mouth before spitting it out into the toilet and flushing, and pushed himself up to stand.   
“I'll understand if you don't want me here anymore...” he said in barely a whisper.  
Gibbs stepped up to him, almost angered by what he'd said, “Now you listen to me, Tony... I told you there was nothin' you could say that'd make me stop carin' about you. Do you think I was lying?” Tony's chin quivered before he almost imperceptibly shook his head. “C'mere,” Gibbs pulled him into an embrace as if to prove it to him. “We're gonna figure this out, okay?” he told him in barely a whisper. He felt Tony's entire body shaking, then. “Are you cold?” he asked, pulling away to look at his face. Tony nodded sheepishly. “Let's get you upstairs under the covers,” he said as he opened the door and led him out.   
“I don't...I don't think I can...” Tony said just as his legs became shaky enough to start buckling beneath him.   
Gibs held him upright, securing under his arms. “McGee!” he called.  
“Boss?” Tim rushed around the corner to meet them.   
“Help me get him upstairs.” McGee nodded and took to Tony's left side, pulling Tony's arm around his shoulders and securing his right arm around Tony's back. Gibbs did the same on the other side, and secured his arm around Tony's waist.  
With some impressive contorting, they managed to get Tony up the stairs and into the bedroom.  
“Pull down the blanket an' sheet,” Gibbs instructed McGee, and he complied after ensuring that Gibbs had a sturdy hold of the exhausted agent beside him. Then the two of them helped Tony into the bed; Gibbs then pulling the sheet and blanket up Tony's shivering form as he rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball. Gibbs looked up and McGee who stood nervously at the foot of the bed, looking worried for the man before them. “I need to make a call to Ducky. Can you sit here with him until I get back, Tim?”  
“Of course,” McGee answered in a tone that portrayed the absurdity of even having to have asked. Gibbs nodded and headed out of the room and McGee took a seat on he edge of the bed where Gibbs had just been.   
Tony looked up at him through lidded eyes. “Did...everyone else leave?” he asked in a quiet voice.  
“Yeah,” Tim answered. “They told me to tell you they had a nice time visiting you, and that they hope you feel better.”  
“I'm sorry I ruined the party...”  
“You didn't ruin anything, Tony,” he tried to assure him. “No one is upset by anything other than that you're not feeling well. We care about you, ya know?” Tony's eyes fell to the mattress beside him. “Was it something we said that made you feel bad?”   
“No,” he whispered. “It was...” he paused, hesitantly. “The pizza...made me remember something. That's why I got sick...”  
Tim furrowed his brow, “Do you wanna talk about what you remembered?”   
Tony shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, “No. I don't wanna remember it, either. I don't wanna remember what I saw...”  
“Sometimes talking about it helps,” he insisted. “Holding onto it all by yourself can make it hurt even more.”  
“I'm not holding onto it all by myself. It was Tony who the bad man hurt... He did bad things to Tony...” he whispered. “But I can't tell you. He wouldn't want me to tell you.”  
“Well...why wouldn't he want you to tell me?” he questioned.  
“'Cause...he let it happen...” Tony said in a small voice. Tim tried to factor together what he'd been told, and suddenly Gibbs was there beside them.  
“Ducky's gonna come by in the morning to check you over,” he told Tony. “You want anything? Some gingerale or somethin'?”  
“You have gingerale?” Tony asked, looking up at him.  
“Yep.”   
“I'll go get some for you,” Tim offered and stood from the bed to head toward the kitchen.  
Gibbs sat down where Tim had been and Tony pushed himself up a bit so he was sitting back against the headboard, and met Gibbs' eyes. “I need to ask you a question,” Gibbs said, scooting a bit closer and taking Tony's hand. “And it's important that you tell me, okay?” Tony's eyes dropped, thinking he was going to ask about the very thing he didn't want to talk about. “When you said you made Tony, what'd you mean?”  
Tony looked up at him again and swallowed; his throat now dry. He hadn't expected the question at all. “It doesn't matter.”  
“I think it does, Tony. I think it matters a lot.” He narrowed his eyes as he searched Tony's face. “Does it have to do with your father?”   
Tony's eyes flashed with fear and embarrassment. “I...I had to,” he told him. “I wasn't strong enough, Gibbs. I couldn't stop being afraid. My dad got so mad because I was a kid, and he didn't need a kid. Dinozzo's don't cry, and I cry. He didn't want me, Gibbs...” Gibbs remained quiet, allowing Tony to see that he wasn't going to judge him one way or another. Soon, he continued. “He used to hurt my mommy,” he told him; voice cracking. “And when she died, he was always mad at me. Told me I needed to grow up. And if I made a mistake, he'd put me in my place.”  
Gibbs moved over on the bed to sit beside Tony up against the headboard, and Tony scooted down to make room. Gibbs put an arm around Tony's shoulders and Tony relaxed marginally, laying his head on Gibbs. “Tell me,” he said, calmly.   
Tony took a deep breath. “I came home from softball one day,” he began. “We didn't win, but I got three hits and three runs. I just wanted to tell him... I was so excited that I just ran into his study. I didn't think; just went in. And he'd been drinking. He didn't care about the game. At that point, he was just mad 'cause I came in without permission.”  
Gibbs' felt the shudder that ran through Tony's body, that had nothing to do with being cold. He tightened his arm around him to let him know it was okay to continue.  
“He started yelling real loud. It scared me. I knew I'd get hit. But I didn't think it would be as bad as it was... I remember him shoving me. I fell, and he kicked me real hard. It made me throw up on the carpet.” Gibbs closed his eyes, fighting a burning anger and a deep, sick feeling in his gut. “That made him even madder. I remember him slapping my face... and then after that, I don't remember anything til I woke up in my bed with the nanny sittin' next to me. She had a cold washcloth on my head.”  
“You know that what your father did was wrong, don't you?” Gibbs said in barely a whisper as he tried to hold himself together for Tony's sake.  
“Yeah. But I didn't think I could get away, either. My mom never did...” he said, grimly.  
“What happened after that?”  
“When I saw my face in the mirror that day, I was so scared. I'd never seen a kid look the way I looked that day. Only in movies... I needed a way to stop bein' a kid, Gibbs. I needed to be someone else; someone brave enough and strong enough to stand up to my dad or at least fight back. I needed to be a grownup...”  
“So you made yourself one,” Gibbs surmised. “Made yourself grow up and fight back.”  
“I made Tony,” he corrected. “I didn't stay there anymore. I let Tony be there instead. Tony was strong and brave and stood up to my dad. I think dad was scared of him and that's why he sent him to boarding school eventually. I liked being Tony,” he said. “I liked the way he did everything. So I kept quiet most of the time. And sometimes, when things got hard for Tony, I'd try to help. After all, he saved me. I put all that burden on him. It was the least I could do.”  
“How did you help him?”  
“When he would get sad... well, I made it so he could just let me do it...cry, I mean, or be scared; so it wouldn't show on the outside. I'd do it for him... After a long time, when he was a grownup, it started getting harder to take all the stuff he didn't wanna show. He doesn't know about me, Gibbs,” he clarified. “He doesn't know why it's so hard to keep stuff inside all the time. He just knows that he can't... He knows he can't show it no matter what, and if it's too much, he has to hide so no one sees it.”  
“That what you meant when you told me he doesn't want anyone to see you?” Gibbs asked. He felt Tony nod against his chest. Gibbs had a million thoughts running through his head then. He was no psychologist, but he knew what his heart and his gut were telling him; a ten-year-old Tony had decided it was time to stand up for himself, and the only way he'd known how, was to separate everything his father had ridiculed, and amplify everything that made him strong.   
He'd left that personality behind so quickly, that he'd somehow divided from it. Both of them co-existing in the same mind, but only one being aware of the other. But what did that mean for their Tony?   
McGee chose that moment to clear his throat before entering the room. Undoubtedly, he'd been standing outside the door, waiting for an appropriate time to enter without disrupting the conversation. “Here's your gingerale, Tony,” he said as he held it out to him.  
Tony sat up and took it, “Thanks. Hey, Tim?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You wanna watch the second Star Wars?” he looked at him with hopeful eyes.  
McGee glanced at Gibbs, who simply smirked, then back to Tony, “Sure, Tony. If it's okay with Gibbs... It'll be pretty late before it runs all the way through.”  
“Maybe you can sleep over,” Tony suggested, then turned to look at Gibbs. “Can McGee sleep over, Gibbs?”  
“If McGee wants to, sure,” Gibbs told him.  
Of course, there really was no way McGee could tell little-Tony 'no'. Not that he could really refuse any kid. But this Tony really seemed to like him a lot more than theirs. Or rather, he showed it more, anyway. “Sure, okay. Lemme just go grab my overnight bag from the trunk.”  
Gibbs and Tony watched as McGee left the room, and Tony sipped at his drink before looking back over at Gibbs. “Are you mad at me?”  
Gibbs furrowed his brow, “Why would you say that?”  
“'Cause I couldn't help him anymore. He did everything alone; he's been doing everything alone for a long time...and it's all 'cause I couldn't anymore.”  
“It's not your responsibility to suffer for anyone,” Gibbs told him. “So none of this is your fault. Tony might've given up, but he had you to hold on a bit longer. And I don't think we'd be able to get him back if you hadn't.”  
“You really think so?” Tony's face conveyed hope.  
“Yeah, I do,” he ruffled his hair as he pushed up from the bed. “You an' McGee enjoy your movie. I'll go grab an extra blanket for 'im.”


	18. Chapter 18

Gibbs went down to the basement and pulled out his cell as he poured himself a drink. He dialed his father's number. After a few rings, the other line picked up and he was greeted by the familiar voice of Jackson Gibbs. “Hello?”  
“Hey, Dad.”  
“Leroy! Everything alright?”  
There were a few silent moments before Gibbs spoke, “I wanna take you up on your offer...”

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs headed upstairs after a long talk with his father, and entered the doorway to Tony's room as the end credits scrolled on the screen. Both agents were fast asleep; Tony under the covers and McGee over. The blanket Gibbs had gotten for him earlier was draped haphazardly over his lower half and his position made to look like he hadn't intentionally fallen asleep.   
Gibbs noticed that Tim must have convinced and assisted Tony into changing for bed before they'd started watching the movie, as he walked to turn off the TV. The sudden lack of light and noise caused McGee to stir and open his eyes.  
“Ugh...sorry, Boss,” he whispered. “Didn't mean to fall asleep.”  
“Isn't a stake-out, McGee,” Gibbs replied, smirking. “Looks like he beat ya to it, anyway.” McGee looked over at the peaceful sleeping form beside him. “Thanks for stayin', Tim,” Gibbs said and McGee looked up at him as he approached the bed. “Makes him real happy when ya spend time with him like this.”  
“I dunno what to even say to that,” Tim smirked. “But I definitely don't mind doing it.”  
Gibbs patted his arm, “G'night, McGee.”   
“'Night, Boss,” he replied as Gibbs turned and headed out.

11 00 11 00 11

Day One of Captivity...

“What do you want from me?!” Tony yelled as he was thrown into the wall.  
“Shut up, DiNozzo,” Cullen sneered. “Until you can remember who I am, I won't be answering any of your stupid questions.”  
Tony laughed, “Well, it's kinda hard to remember anything when I'm being tossed around like a rag doll.”  
“I told you to shut up!” Cullen back-handed him across the face, cutting open his chin. Tony grunted as he once again hit the floor. “I don't like-” he kicked him, “When I'm not-” kick, “Listened to!” he kicked him once more, leaving Tony coughing and spitting out blood from where he'd bitten his cheek.   
The pain was enough to distract Tony while Cullen went over to the cabinet to retrieve a syringe and fill it with an unknown substance. When he came back, Tony looked up and saw it. “What's that? What are you gonna do with that?” he asked with a shaky voice.  
“I have no doubt you'll try and fight me,” Cullen explained as he quickly jabbed him in the arm and emptied its contents into it. “This will ensure that you can't.”  
“You son of a bitch,” Tony yelled through gritted teeth.   
“Now, now...such language is unnecessary. Besides, this is barely half a dose. I just didn't feel like dealing with your struggling,” he tossed the empty syringe on the table and stood to reach into his coat pocket for the cuff key.   
Tony appraised the situation, taking not of how far away the door was before attempting to sit up. But as he tried to do so, he realized that it felt as if all the energy had been drained from his body. He could barely lift his arm.  
Cullen was taking off the handcuffs, and Tony felt his own arms go limply to the floor once they were off. “What'd you...do...t'me...” he asked as it became more and more difficult to speak.  
He received no response, but felt something being wrapped around his wrist, digging and biting ; scratching painfully until it was finished. The process was repeated on the other one. But Tony couldn't lift and turn his head to see what Cullen was doing.  
Suddenly, he felt himself being hoisted up and he groaned from the discomfort as his arm was attached somewhere on the wall, supporting all of his weight and not being able to contract the muscle to assist. But then his other arm was balanced and hung on the other side of him, at which point Cullen decided to shove him back against the wall, roughly.   
Tony's eyes shot open and Cullen was in his face. “You'll remember,” he hissed, bringing a hand up to Tony's throat. “And no one will ever find you down here, Anthony. I can guarantee you that. So, you have all the time in the world to think about what you did...” his fingers clamped down on his throat.  
With no ability to defend himself against the attack, Tony could do nothing but hang there and succumb to being strangled. The panic was overwhelming; suffocation having become one of his biggest fears long ago after having nearly died from the plague; drowning in his own lungs...  
He could do nothing... and when darkness began to drift in around him, he felt the hand slip away...

*~.~*

“Boss!” Gibbs awoke to the sound of McGee yelling from the other room. The urgency in his voice caused him to bolt out of bed and into the guest room in mere seconds. “Boss, I dunno what's happening!” a panicked McGee said from his kneeling position on the bed beside Tony, who was thrashing about. “He was having a nightmare, I think, and I tried to wake him. But now...Boss, I don't think he's breathing...”  
Gibbs had gotten to the side of the bed before Tim had finished explaining, and it was clear that Tony seemed to be struggling to breathe. Gibbs put his hands on Tony's arms and got his face close to his ear, much like he had any other time he'd been stuck in a nightmare or flashback. “Tony, you're dreaming! I need you to wake up now. You're safe. You hear me? You're okay.”  
Tony's eyes remained closed, but he sucked in a deep breath as if his head had just come up out of water. After a few moments of regaining his breath, he spoke, “Boss?”  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, realizing he was within a rare moment in which he could speak to their Tony. “Yeah, DiNozzo, it's me.” He squeezed Tony's arm, hoping to help him to realize where he was.  
“Boss...I don't know where I am, but you gotta help me... I can't get outta this one alone.”  
McGee watched helplessly, glancing from Tony to Gibbs and wondering what the hell was going on; how he would handle this.  
“Tony, you listen to me,” Gibbs told him. “You aren't in that place anymore, understand? We found you.”  
“But I can't get out,” he retorted, sadly. “I don't know how to get out of here... There's no way...”  
Gibbs could see that he'd have to figure out another tactic, as time grew to precious moments. “You can. You just need to listen to the one who's tryin' to help you,” he told him. “Do you know who I'm talkin' about, Tony?”  
Tony frowned and then shook his head, “It's dark now,” he said. “No one is here. I'm alone.” And just as quickly as it had begun, Tony's body became lax and he was silent once more.   
As his breathing returned to normal, they realized that whatever had happened was now over. Gibbs looked up at McGee who seemed unnerved by the conversation that had just taken place. “Has that happened before?” Tim asked in a whisper.  
“In the hospital,” he replied. “He had a flashback but he wasn't as responsive as he was just now.”  
“Well...then this is good, right? I mean...this is better? Maybe he's trying to get back...”  
“I hope so, Tim. But I don't have the answer to that... What time is it?”  
McGee glanced at the watch he hadn't taken off, “Little after 0400.”  
“You should try an' get back to sleep.”  
He shook his head, “No way I could do that, now. Think I'll just go downstairs and make some coffee, if that's okay with you...”  
Gibbs gave him a small nod and McGee headed out of the room fairly quickly. The lead agent took a long breath and sighed as he rubbed a hand down his face. From the moment McGee's call woke him, his heart had been going a mile a minute. Granted it hadn't been for very long, it still left him with a bit of a sick feeling. He knew Tim felt the same; the feeling that left you too wound up to go back to sleep.   
It pissed Gibbs off to no end that Fornell had been right. He couldn't really continue to leave the other half of him team to do all the work while he stayed home doing...really, nothing for Tony. Gibbs was no doctor or shrink. He'd fooled himself into believing he could somehow pull his agent back from the dark, and now...well, now he wasn't so sure anymore...


	19. Chapter 19

“Tony,” Gibbs came into the kitchen after answering the door. McGee had left a while ago, and they'd been eating breakfast. Gibbs had explained how someone was coming over to talk to him about what had happened while in captivity, and possibly help bring out the Tony that was hiding away inside his mind. “This is Dr. Green,” he introduced the dirty-blonde haired woman who came into view in the doorway of the kitchen beside him. “The one I told you was coming to talk to you.”  
“Hello, Tony,” she smiled. “It's nice to meet you.”  
Tony gave her a nervous smile. “Hi.”  
“I can talk to you in here if you'd like, so you can finish your breakfast.”  
“I'm done,” he replied. “We can go in the living room,” he glanced at Gibbs before meeting her eyes again. “Can Gibbs stay with me?”  
“If that's what you want,” she told him.  
Tony relaxed marginally and stood from the table, clearing his plate and putting it in the sink before going to the couch. Green sat in the chair across from the couch and Gibbs stood leaning against the fireplace mantel as Tony pulled his knees up to his chest where he sat in the far corner of the couch. Gibbs could tell he was nervous.  
Green began by making small talk and asking Tony about things he liked to do and places he liked to visit. Once she saw him begin to relax a bit, she asked about his parents. He told her about his mother; how much he'd loved her and missed her. But it took more pushing to get him to speak about his father.  
When he finally did, it was brief and to the point; no need for details. But she understood what she needed to know, and decided to move on. “Can you tell me when Tony went away?” she asked.  
Tony glanced over at Gibbs, who nodded to him, then looked back at Dr. Green. “A couple days before Gibbs saved me, I think. It was after the bad man stopped coming back. I'm not sure how long it was, really...”  
“But you remember the whole time being there?” she asked. He nodded. “Can you tell me about it? Can you tell me about the nightmare you had last night?”  
Tony looked over at Gibbs again, not having realized anyone knew about that. “I...”  
“It's okay, Tony,” Gibbs told him. “She's just here to help you.”  
Tony swallowed and looked down at the coffee table as he spoke. “He was remembering the first day,” he began. “The bad man wanted him to remember who he was. He was angry because he didn't know at first. He...he punched me,” he put a hand on his jaw as if remembering the pain it'd caused. “I mean...he punched Tony, and Tony fell and he kicked him over and over. It hurt...a lot. And he was scared...”  
“Why didn't Tony fight back?” Green asked, and Gibbs' eyes flashed with anger at her audacity, but remained silent for the time being; wondering what sort of tactic she had up her sleeve.  
“Because he couldn't,” Tony told her. “He was handcuffed. And then the bad man stuck him with a shot, and it made him not be able to fight.”  
Green nodded. “What happened then, when he drugged him?”  
“He tied ropes around Tony's wrists and hung him on the wall. Then he...he got real angry...” Tony's breathing picked up a bit as he continued. “He started choking Tony...and Tony couldn't move to fight. He couldn't breathe and he thought he would die... But he didn't. He just passed out and I guess the bad man let go of him...”  
“Tony,” she said in a calm voice, “You felt what the bad man did, too, didn't you?” Tony met her eyes, then nodded. “Then you don't have to say that he did it to Tony; you can say that he did it to you.” Tony's eyes skidded about in front of him for a moment, then over to Gibbs, who was still standing there keeping watch. “Tony?” His eyes went back to the doctor. “Can you remember what happened next?”  
“I...” his eyes met the coffee table again as he thought. “When I woke up, it was dark. I thought maybe he put something over Tony's- over my eyes. I was really thirsty. It hurt to swallow. My arms hurt when I moved them and I put my feet on the floor to push myself up a bit so I wasn't hanging all my weight on my shoulders. It was a long time before the bad man came back... I heard him comin' to the door and opening it. Then he turned on the lights and it hurt my eyes...” Tony's voice trailed off for a long moment.  
“What happened next, Tony?” the doctor asked.  
His eyes traveled up slowly to meet hers. “He had a box,” he told her. “He cut some of my hair and put it in a bag. Then he took blood from my arm with a needle. Then he...he...” Tony closed his eyes and a shudder ran through his body.   
Gibbs moved over to Tony, sitting down on the arm of the couch, and put a hand on the back of his head. He gently stroked it before giving a reassuring squeeze to the back of his neck and settled the hand on his shoulder as Tony looked up at him. “It's okay, Tony.”  
“But it's...embarrassing,” he whispered.  
“You don't need to be embarrassed with either of us,” he reminded him.  
Tony swallowed and ducked his head, closing his eyes again before continuing. “He...opened my pants... And when I tried to move away so he would stop, he told me that if I moved, it would hurt a lot more. If I wouldn't stop, he would give me the shot again... So...so I stopped moving.”  
“What did he do after he opened your pants, Tony?” Green asked.  
“He...” Tony swallowed again and Gibbs could feel him tense up again, and he moved his hand from his shoulder to his back, comfortingly rubbing back and forth to let him know he was safe now; that it was okay to tell them. “He put a...tube...in my private...” he said in a whisper. “It hurt...and it was gross...and he pushed it way in until he got some of my pee out. And then he took out the tube, and that hurt, too...” he leaned over so that his head was laying against Gibbs' side. “I didn't like what he did...”  
“What did he do after that, Tony?” Green asked, and Gibbs was getting a bit annoyed with her.  
“He closed my pants back up. Then he put all the things away in the box. Then he went to the shelf with the doors and I thought he was gonna give me a shot anyway. But he came back with a metal cup and a can of some kinda broth. He put some in the cup and let me drink some of it. It was gross, but I was so thirsty that I didn't care. That's what he gave me every day. Every day that he came...”  
“Did he give you anything to eat?” she asked.  
“No... Not at first,” he seemed to curl a bit more into himself. “He would have tea and biscuits out on the table. He would give me the shot to make me not move, and he'd sit me at the table and tie me there so I wouldn't fall. And he'd have tea with 'Lissa.”  
“Who is 'Lissa?” she asked.  
“Sometimes he called her 'Lissa. Sometimes Jess. I think he mighta been crazy. There was never anyone there but him an' me. He told me if I was good, next time he wouldn't give me the shot and I could have a biscuit. So I was good...and he let me have one. But it...made me real sick. I threw up on the table and he got real mad...”  
“What did he do?”  
“I dunno...I don't remember,” he replied.  
“Did he give you any other food after that?”  
“He let me have one the next day because I was good. But it made me sick again... And one more after that... I knew it would make me sick, but...I was so hungry. I had to... I'm sorry...” he leaned more heavily against Gibbs.  
“It's okay, Tony,” Gibbs assured him, stroking his head. “He did it on purpose, to mess with your head. He knew they'd make you sick, too. You didn't do anything wrong.”  
“I don't feel good,” he said. “I don't wanna talk about this anymore, Gibbs... I thought we were gonna try and get Tony to come out. I thought he could tell you, instead of me.”  
“Okay, Tony,” Green said. “Why don't you tell me about when you try and get Tony to come out. Tell me what happens when you go to him.”  
Tony sat up a bit and looked at her. “He's laying under the table, every time I find him. He thinks I'm not real, so he doesn't believe me when I tell him Gibbs saved him.”  
“Can't you tell him to get up and come out?”  
“I do!” he defended. “I tell him every time! But he says he can't. He says he can't get up and he can't move and he just wants to die. He tells me to go away...”  
“Did you tell him that you won't?” she asked. He cocked his head and gave her a confused look. “Maybe if you tell him that you won't leave until he comes out, he might listen.”  
“Wouldn't that just get him stuck in there, too?” Gibbs asked, a bit angrily.  
“He won't get stuck, I don't think-”  
“You don't think?” Gibbs raised his brows. “So you're tellin' him, basically, to risk becoming completely trapped in there, on a hunch?”  
“Agent Gibbs-”  
“I think we're done for today, Dr. Green,” he said. “You come back when you've got a better suggestion that won't put him at risk.”  
Dr. Green pursed her lips, slightly put off by Gibbs' attitude. But she knew better, by word of advice from colleagues that had heard of him, then to argue with him. “Alright,” she conceded. “Then I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I'll do some research and see what the least risky path would be,” she stood from the chair. “It was nice to meet you, Tony,” she said. “I'll show myself out, Agent Gibbs.”  
He tried his best not to glare at her as she turned and walked out. Gibbs then stood from the arm of the couch and moved around Tony to sit beside him on the couch, putting his arm around his shoulders, “You okay?” Tony nodded without looking over at him, but lowered his head to Gibbs' shoulder and rested it there. “You sure, buddy? She was kinda pushy.”  
“She was just doin' her job,” he said, sullenly. “I've had counselors before. They're all the same, really. They think they know everything of how the brain works, and that they have an answer for makin' it all better. But really, they don't. They never do...”  
“Well don't say that. We're gonna fix this, Tony, I promise you. But I'm not gonna risk losin' you in the process.”  
“But...what if it's the only way to get your Tony back?” he asked in a quiet voice.  
“You are my Tony, too,” he told him. “You both are. You both belong out here together as one.”  
Tony pulled away and looked at him as he shook his head, “You don't want me. I'd just make it harder,” he told him. “I'm supposed to stay inside where I can hold onto the things he doesn't want people to see, for as long as I can.”  
“No,” Gibbs replied, putting a hand on the side of Tony's neck. “That's not where you belong, Tony. You don't belong locked up inside your head. Don't ya see, that's exactly what he's doin'. And it's 'cause he's scared.”  
“But I'm scared, too...”  
“What are you scared of?”  
“Bein' out here...without him,” he replied.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “But you've been in there, all alone, for most of your life. And you've seen every scary and sad moment that he ever has.”  
“Yeah... I have. Tony can do that; he can get through those things. Not me.”  
“I think you underestimate yourself,” Gibbs told him. “I believe in you, Tony. And I'm a pretty damn good judge of people. Now, when we get him out here, I don't want you hiding back in there. I won't accept it, are we clear?”  
“But, Gibbs-”  
“No, Tony. You need to listen to me! You're one of my own; one I didn't even know was there until recently, and I won't leave you behind. I refuse to. If you leave...I'll be...very disappointed,” he told him, searching Tony's eyes for a sign that he understood what he was saying.   
“But...if I stay out here, he won't be able to hide things. You'll end up having to do what you've been doin' for me. You'll see him when he's afraid and when he's upset.”  
“I don't care about that, Tony. He'll figure out how to deal with it, in time. You both will; it's what you should've done from the beginning, but your father stole that opportunity from you. People learn how to deal with things like fear and sadness, by experiencing them in doses. But you...you had some bad things happen to you and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. But you should never have thought, even for a second, that the solution was to get rid of yourself.”  
Tony's eyes focused on Gibbs' chest as he considered what Gibbs had told him. “I'm sorry...I didn't know...”  
“Not your fault, Tony,” he replied. “You don't need to apologize.”  
“It's a sign of weakness,” Tony said, meeting his eyes again. “I remember...”  
“Good,” Gibbs smirked. “How many of the rules do you remember?” he asked, glad to change the subject a bit.  
Tony looked off to the side for a moment. “Never be unreachable.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Don't go anywhere without a knife...” he said, then swallowed and ducked his head. Gibbs knew he was probably thinking about the incident with Cullen and the belt knife. He pulled Tony to lay his head back on his shoulder. “I just don't wanna wreck him, Gibbs,” Tony said in a small voice. “What if he can't work 'cause I wreck him? He loves being an agent for you. It's the only time he's ever really happy...”  
“You're not gonna wreck 'im,” Gibbs said, slipping his arm around Tony's back and pulling him closer. “If anything, I think you'll make him even better. You've always been a part of him, Tony. And he's always been a part of you.”  
The two of them sat there like that for a while, in silence, as Tony allowed what Gibbs had told him to absorb. For a while, Gibbs thought Tony might have fallen asleep. But then he started talking again. “I have to tell you somethin',” he said in a quiet voice.  
“Okay. I'm listenin'.”  
Tony gently pulled away and met his eyes, “I think I know when he started to go away...”  
“You said it was a couple of days before we found you?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes a bit.  
“Yeah...But at first, he would just hide some times. And I would just be there, by myself for a bit. Like he was goin' to sleep, but a really really deep sleep where I couldn't see him.” Gibbs waited for him to continue. “It was when the bad man started putting the thing on my head,” Tony told him. Gibbs' gut clenched. “It hurt so bad, everywhere. And when he was done, Tony would be gone for a while and it'd just be me. The first time it happened, I was scared he wouldn't come back at all.”   
“But he did?”  
Tony nodded, “It was like he was waking up and I was goin' back to sleep. So I started hiding 'cause I didn't want him to go away like that again. I...I couldn't be by myself there, Gibbs,” his voice cracked and tears filled his eyes. “I couldn't do it by myself. I was too scared, and I cried, and I think that made the bad man even more mad 'cause he'd start hittin' me. But I couldn't stop...” the tears flowed down his cheeks.  
“Hey, sshh,” Gibbs pulled him into an embrace. “It's okay, Tony. It's okay to cry when you're scared.”  
“But I made him hurt Tony even more, Gibbs,” he cried. “Tony would wake up and feel all that pain and not even know where it came from...”  
“It's not your fault,” he told him in barely a whisper, noting yet another similarity between this Tony and theirs; self-blame. “Hey, listen,” he said as he pulled away. “We're gonna have another house guest for a while. You okay with that?”  
“Who?” Tony asked as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.  
“My dad. He wants to come help out. He likes you,” he gave him a small smile.  
“Your dad likes me?” Tony asked, then scrunched his eyes closed for a moment. Then they popped open, “Jackson?”  
“Yeah,” Gibbs smiled. “And yeah he likes ya. What's not to like?”  
“Tony likes Jackson,” he said. “I like Jackson; he's nice. He's a good dad, Gibbs. He's comin' here to help out? Are you gonna go back to work?”  
“Not sure about that, yet,” he replied. Tony furrowed his brow. “We'll see how it goes, okay? But if he's here, then I can run out and get things done that need to be done. And if Ziva and McGee need me for somethin', you won't be stuck here all alone.”  
Tony gave him a small, but genuine smile. “I'm glad you'll be helpin' Ziva and McGee. I think they miss you.”  
Gibbs laughed a bit at that. “Bet they miss havin' you around, even more...”


	20. Chapter 20

McGee and Gibbs both had smiles on their faces as they watched Tony play in the back yard with Jethro; McGee's German Shepard.   
McGee had shown up, unexpectedly, around lunchtime with the dog, and a slightly agitated look on his face. The dog-sitter had an emergency in which she had to leave town, and brought Jethro to NCIS; the guard post, to be exact. They'd called Tim down to retrieve him, which had been embarrassing enough. But then he had to figure out what the hell he was going to do with him for the rest of the day.  
Immediately, he'd thought of Tony. Kids love dogs, and Jethro loves kids. That was his brilliant thought. And once he'd walked up to Gibbs' front door and knocked, the reasoning side of his brain decided to join up with him to make him realize that maybe Gibbs wouldn't think it was such a great idea. Or maybe he should have at least called before heading straight over... And yeah...Tony wasn't really a kid. Duh...  
But as soon as the door was opened and Tony came into view of Jethro, a smile beamed on his face. That smile ended up being McGee's saving grace.   
“Good idea, bringin' 'im here, McGee,” Gibbs said as they stood on the deck watching Tony run around in the grass as Jethro playfully chased after him with his tongue flailing around out the side of his mouth, happily. “Tony had a rough morning with the idiot shrink.”  
“I take it, it didn't go well?” he looked over at him with a furrowed brow.  
“She was pushy. It's a difficult call when you really need a child psychologist. But how many of them know how to handle a case like this; with the level of tortures he went through... Guess I can't really be too pissed with her. But she needs to figure out a better way, or send someone who knows what the hell they're doin'.”  
“I think you have been doing him more good than anything,” McGee told him. Gibbs quirked a brow as he glanced at him. “No, really. I had psychologists when I was a kid...” he started, then nervously looked down and scratched at the back of his head, closing his eyes for moment as if he'd revealed something he hadn't intended to.  
Gibbs turned his body to face him completely, and Tim knew he had no choice now. Gibbs would find out whether he told him or not.   
He took a breath and met Gibbs' eyes again. “I spent a school-year with my aunt and uncle when I was a kid. Dad was shipped out and Mom was working full-time. Sarah was still young enough to qualify for daycare at Mom's work, but she didn't want me to be a latch-key kid; coming home from school and spending the evenings alone until nightfall when she'd get back. So this was the solution.” He took a brief pause, looking over into the yard as Tony crouched down to hug Jethro and scruff his fur, and he smiled.   
Then he looked back at Gibbs. “My parents didn't know that my uncle was abusive to my aunt,” he continued. “They wouldn't have sent me there if they'd known. Needless to say, he wasn't solely a wife-beater; he just picked on anyone weaker than he was. And as soon as I set foot in the house, it started.”   
Gibbs' gut clenched as he listened to McGee spill this secret so openly to him. “Did you tell your parents?” he asked.  
“I was afraid to, at first,” he replied. “He made sure to threaten me with worse, if I did. But eventually, it got to the point I couldn't really take it anymore. Really, it was when my aunt tried to stop him, when she walked in on it one night, and he backhanded her...sent her flying across the room into a bookshelf and knocked her out...I thought she was dead...” he swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat at the memory. “I ran out of there as fast as I could to the neighbor's house and they called the police. Mom came and picked me up that night. She refused to even speak to her sister again, until she ended up leaving my uncle a year later.”  
“You ever see him again?”  
“No. He went to jail. Tried to mess with people there, too, and ended up getting the shit kicked out of him so bad that he ended up with brain damage to the point he doesn't even remember his own name, to this day.”  
“Just desserts,” Gibbs smirked.  
“Yeah,” McGee smirked back. “But the point of me telling you this,” he said, “My parents made sure to put me into counseling right away. I must've talked to a dozen different people, but really...” he sighed. “Once my dad was on leave, he made sure to spend a ton of his free time with me; talked to me and really made me understand that it wasn't my fault. Anyone can say that to you, and a lot of those shrinks did. But what mattered the most, was hearing it from him. He's the one who woke me up from nightmares and helped me through flashbacks and got me to the point where I wasn't afraid anymore. I'm not saying that this is exactly the same as what Tony's going through, because it's not. But I do know that he looks up to you more than he does anyone else. Even the little kid version of him. He idolizes you, Boss. The time you're spending; the sacrifices you're making... if anyone's gonna pull him outta this, it's you.” He watched Gibbs' eyes flash and dart around a bit as he thought about the claim. “No pressure,” Tim added, in a very 'DiNozzo-like' fashion, with a smirk.  
Gibbs smiled and shook his head. “I think it's a combination, Tim,” he said. “It makes him happy when you spend time with him, too. There's just a few things I'm not willing to do; and watching Star Wars is one of 'em.”  
Tim laughed and looked back out into the yard where Tony was now lying in the grass with his hands propped under the back of his head; eyes closed, as he let the sun beat down on his face. Jethro was lying beside him, content as he could possibly be.  
“I better get back to work,” McGee said. “I'm supposed to bring lunch back for Ziva and Abs. Ducky told me to let you know he'd be by as soon as possible. There was an early autopsy he hadn't foreseen when he spoke to you last night.” Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks for letting Jethro stay here, Boss. I'll be by this evening to pick him up.”  
“Like I said, not a problem, Tim,” he put a hand on his shoulder. “And thanks...for tellin' me what ya did. Can't imagine it was easy.”  
Tim gave him a small smile, “Guess I was just channeling DiNozzo again.” He glanced out to the yard once more. “He told me something once, I'm pretty sure he never told anyone before, just to try and make me feel better.” He met Gibbs' eyes again. “Ya know, if it hadn't been for him, I might not have stayed a field agent, Boss... After the undercover cop I shot...”  
Something in Gibbs' eyes flashed. “Just one more reason we don't give up on him, McGee,” he told him. Tim nodded...

11 00 11 00 11

It was a little past 1500 hours when Ducky arrived, letting himself into Gibbs' house. He was greeted by the smaller, hairier Jethro as he entered the living room. “Well, hello there, Jethro,” Ducky set his medical bag on the coffee table and patted the dog's head.   
“Hey, Duck,” Gibbs greeted from the kitchen.  
“I apologize for being held up,” he said as he entered the kitchen. “I trust that Timothy sent my message.”  
“Yeah. Coffee?”  
“No, thank you, Jethro. How is Anthony? I expect you would have called again if he wasn't well.”  
“I think he's doin' okay. Just had me worried last night. He'd stopped breathin' in the middle of a nightmare, but I think I understand what happened now. He explained his first day with Cullen to the idiot shrink.”  
“How was Dr. Green, then? I assume, by your tone, that she wasn't as pleasant as I thought she might be.”  
“She's not qualified for this case, Ducky. Not sure what I'm gonna do about it, though.”  
“Hmm...” the doctor sought out a change of subject as he saw the aggravation on Gibbs' face. “Oh! Was that Jackson's truck out front? I saw the Pennsylvania plates...”  
“That it was,” Jackson's voice came as he rounded into the kitchen, having just come from the bathroom. “How are ya, Ducky?” he gave the M.E a proper hug as a greeting.  
“I'm quite well, as you seem to be, yourself, my friend. It's good to see you. Jethro didn't mention that you were coming down...”  
“Well, it wasn't set in stone til last night,” he replied. “But I'm glad to be here; Tony's a good kid.”  
“Speaking of, where is he?” Ducky asked.  
“He's upstairs, sleepin',” Gibbs told him. “He was outside playin' with the dog for a couple of hours and it wiped him out,” he smirked. “Been asleep for about an hour now.”  
“I've been here for half of that,” Jackson told him. “And Leroy and I are already caught up,” he smiled.  
Ducky smiled, “Well, him being a man of few words, I'm surprised it took that long.”  
Gibbs shook his head. As irritating as it was that one of his best friends was good friends with his dad, and they could spend hours upon hours talking about him, it was nice that his father had someone who was of as many words, if not more, to talk to. He was glad he'd decidedly hidden the bourbon before his dad arrived.  
“I'll go check on Tony,” Gibbs told them as he left the room, almost certain that they hadn't even heard him, but not really giving a crap one way or another.  
When the two older men were sure Gibbs was out of earshot, Jackson took a more serious tone. “How's Leroy been holdin' up, Ducky?” he asked, quietly.  
“I can, without a doubt say, much better since we've found Anthony,” he told him.   
“That much, I could tell,” Jackson said as he took a seat at the table and put his hands around his coffee cup. “I hadn't heard that kinda loss in his voice since what happened with Shannon and Kelly, when he'd called me about Tony having been missing.”  
“He was ridden with misplaced guilt,” Ducky said as he took a seat across from him. “I think he still carries some of it around, although he knows a bit better now.”  
“I think it's more of an unspoken devotion,” Jackson said. “He loves that boy like nothin' else, and he won't make the mistake of misplacing his priorities a second time.”  
Ducky was well aware of what Jackson was referring to. The Marines had been everything to Gibbs; taking priority when it came to moving his family, and it had taken him away from them. He hadn't been there to protect them...

*~.~*

When Gibbs reached the top of the stairs, he noticed Jethro standing at the guest room door, pawing the trim and whining once he spotted Gibbs. “Alright, mutt,” he said, playfully, as he petted his head. “I'm opening the door, an' you can come check on him too, okay?”   
He entered the guest room quietly and watched as Jethro hurried in past him and over to the bed, still whining. When he saw Tony, he suddenly understood the dog's behavior. Gibbs rushed to the side of the bed. Tony was lying on his side with his arms folded over his face and head and he was rocking back and forth, breathing heavily.  
“Tony?” Gibbs placed his hands on Tony's arms, gently, but tried to pull them away from his face. But Tony made a protesting groan and grew stock-still. “Alright,” Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his back instead. “Tony, what's wrong?”  
“Hurts...” came a muffled, quiet, squeak of Tony's voice.  
“Your head?”  
“Uh huh...bad...”  
“Okay, hang on,” he stood and hurried out and down the stairs. “Duck!”  
“Yes, Jethro? Is something wrong?”  
“Tony's in a bad way. Got a bad headache, it looks like.”  
“Anything I can help with?” Jackson asked as they stood.  
“If you could, wet a washcloth and bring that and a bottle of water up for the lad,” Ducky said as he fetched his bag and started up the stairs; Gibbs following close behind. “Jethro, if you would, please close the drapes a bit. Just enough light for me to be able to see him,” he said quietly as they entered the room. “Anthony, my boy,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed.   
“Du- Ducky?” Tony asked in a small voice.  
“Yes, it's me. You have a headache, Jethro tells me.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Alright, now. I'll need to take a look at you. You'll have to move your arms.”  
“But it hurts...”  
“Gibbs has closed the drapes, Tony. The light was what might have been hurting it more.”  
Slowly, Tony loosened his arms and pulled them away, revealing a tear-soaked face as his eyes remained closed and his face taught from the pain.   
“How long have you been in pain, Anthony?” Ducky asked just as Jackson entered the room with the water and wet washcloth.  
“I dunno...” Tony replied. “I was sleeping. Dreamin' 'bout the bad place...I woke up with it.”  
“Ah,” Ducky took the cloth and wiped Tony's face gently before placing the cloth on his forehead. “Well, you don't seem feverish. May I take a look at your eyes?”  
“Mhm,” he murmured and slowly attempted to crack them open. Ducky took a quick look into each, pulling the lid up to check his pupils. “I...Ducky, I...think I'ma be sick...” he swallowed.   
Luckily, they'd had a trashcan beside the bed since the night before, after the pizza incident. So Gibbs was ready with it as Tony hovered over the side of the bed and began to heave. “I do believe he may have a migraine, Jethro,” Ducky said.   
“What can we do for him?” Jackson asked.  
“Luckily, I have a metoclopramide injection in my bag,” he said as he opened it and began rooting around inside. “I keep it on hand, actually, for young Timothy, had we ever had another case at sea.” Gibbs glanced at him in question as he continued holding the can for Tony, and helped hold him steady off the side of the bed. “It's quite a reliable anti-nausea medicine,” he told him. “It will also, most likely, help with the migraine. But if not, at least he'll be able to keep some medication down. I'm going to inject into his thigh muscle, preferably while he's preoccupied, Jethro.”  
Gibbs gave him a nod and watched as Ducky quickly administered the injection. “You sure it's nothin' more, Duck? This migraine...should we take him in?”  
“The hospital did quite a number of tests; including a CT and MRI. There were no head injuries present and nothing to indicate the need to fear this being a physiological problem,” Ducky explained. “I've checked his pupils and they're normal. No fever. I believe what he's experiencing is due to post-traumatic stress, agitated by whatever dream he might have been having.”  
Tony seemed to relax a bit then, and Gibbs helped him lay back on the pillows.   
“I'll take that,” Jackson said, trying to be of some help as he motioned for Gibbs to hand him the trashcan.   
He handed it over, gratefully, “Thanks, Dad.”  
“Are you feeling any better, Anthony?” Ducky asked.  
“A little,” he replied, cracking his eyes open a bit. “Your dad's here?” Tony asked Gibbs.   
“Yep,” he gave him a small smile.   
“'m sorry, Gibbs. I didn't mean to be sick. He shouldn't hafta be cleanin' up my puke.”  
“Nonsense, kiddo,” Jackson said as he returned from the bathroom. “I've cleaned up enough of it in my lifetime that I'm barely bothered by it anymore.”  
“I'm happy you're here,” Tony gave him a weak smile.   
“Well,” Jackson swelled with a bit of prideful joy at Tony's words. “I'm happy to be here, young man.”  
“We can play chess...” Tony's eyes started drifting closed, though he tried desperately to keep them open.   
“That we can,” he replied. “Soon as you're feelin' better.”  
Gibbs wiped the washcloth over Tony's face once more, then brushed his hand over his forehead and back into his hair. “You get some more sleep, Tony.”  
“Stay for a while?” Tony asked in barely a whisper. “Wake me up if I have a bad dream again?”  
“I'll stay for a bit,” he said, glancing at the two older men. Ducky stood, gathering his bag, and gave Tony a pat on the leg and a nod to Gibbs before heading out of the room with Jackson. Gibbs moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, sitting back on the headboard.   
Tony turned onto his side facing him, and curled up, reaching a hand beside him just to touch the edge of Gibbs' shirt as a reassurance that he was there. “I love you,” he whispered.  
Gibbs closed his eyes against threatening emotion. It made his chest swell with something he hadn't felt in so long, every time Tony said it. And he found it difficult to hold back from scooping him up in his arms and holding onto him until it somehow magically made everything better.  
He settled for gently stroking the exposed side of Tony's head as he settled into the pillow. “Love you, too, buddy,” he whispered, mostly because it's all he could manage at the moment.


	21. Chapter 21

Gibbs wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, himself. But the sound of dishes clanging downstairs pulled him out of it. He quickly became aware of the fact that Tony had scooted the upper half of himself closer at some point; arm draped around Gibbs' waist and his head buried in Gibbs' side.   
Glancing at the clock, he realized a little over an hour had passed. Judging by the lack of chatter coming from the first floor, Gibbs derived that Ducky had either gone home, or one of them had fallen asleep as well. But since there was no short of noise coming from the kitchen, chances were the former.   
He took a breath and caught the unmistakeable aroma of spaghetti sauce and what had to be meatballs. Gibbs then heard a familiar feminine 'giggle', one that he recognized as Ziva's, followed by a shushing that might not have been his father.   
Tony stirred beside him, rolling away onto his back as he stretched, and cracked his eyes open. Gibbs watched him as he seemed to take a moment to recall where he was. Then he met Gibbs' eyes and gave him a small smile. “You stayed.”  
“Said I would, didn't I?” Gibbs quirked a brow. “No nightmares?”  
Tony shook his head, “Musta been 'cause you were here, Gibbs. Not even nightmares mess with Gibbs,” he grinned.  
Gibbs let out a small laugh. “I hear company downstairs,” he told him. “You ready to get up?”  
“Mhm,” he stretched once more and took a deep breath through his nose, catching the aroma of what was being made in the kitchen. “Who's makin' spaghetti?” Tony asked with a bit of excitement on his face as he sat up.  
“Guess we'll have to find out.”

*~.~*

“It's not funny, Ziva,” McGee whispered as he tried desperately to wipe off the sauce that had sploshed up from the pan and onto his shirt. “It's bad enough, the dry-cleaning I have to bring in from the inevitable gunk that soils my clothes at work...”  
“It is a little funny, McGee,” she replied in as hushed a whisper, with a smile still firmly in place.   
“Ya know, the dog's quieter than you two,” Gibbs said with an amused look on his face as he entered the kitchen. Tony stopped in the living room to give Jethro a good scruffing.  
Tim and Ziva turned to face them with slightly widened eyes. “We are sorry, Gibbs,” Ziva said. “We did not mean to wake you.”  
Gibbs shrugged, “Didn't really mean to doze off, anyway. Where's my father?” he asked, noticing the older man was no where to be seen.  
“He went to take a nap, after Ducky left,” Tim told him.   
“And you decided to cook?” Gibbs raised an amused brow.  
“Well...”  
“I wanted an excuse to stay for a visit,” Ziva smirked. “McGee had to pick up his dog, and I wanted to come see how Tony was doing. When we arrived, Jackson was starting dinner. He seemed tired, so we gladly took over.”  
Gibbs smirked at the mess on McGee's shirt. “Looks like it took over. Gimme your shirt, Tim. Got just the thing to get that out,” he held out his hand.  
Tim furrowed his brow for a moment, then proceeded to unbutton the shirt. “Thanks, Boss,” he said as he handed it over, glad that he'd worn a nicer undershirt today.   
“McGee!” Tony smiled as he entered the kitchen. “Ziva! You're making spaghetti and meatballs,” he grinned as he looked into the pans on the stove. “My favorite.”  
The younger agents smiled at his enthusiasm and glanced at Gibbs before he headed toward the basement door with Tim's shirt.   
“It's almost ready,” McGee told Tony. “Just need to cook the pasta. Wanna help?”  
“Can I?” Tony eyes brightened.  
“I believe Jethro needs to go out,” Ziva said as she glanced at the deck door where the dog was pawing at the glass. “I will take him.”  
“Thanks, Zi,” McGee said as he added salt to the boiling water on the stove. “Alright, Tony. You ready to add the pasta?”   
Tony nodded and Tim handed him the open box of spaghetti noodles. As he took the box, the bottom popped open and the pasta poured out all over the floor. Tony gasped and took a step back. “No...”   
“Crap...” McGee looked down at the mess.  
“I'm sorry...” Tony backed away.   
“It's okay, Tony. There's another box,” he said as he went to take the empty one from Tony's hand.   
But Tony dropped it and backed away further, “It was an accident...I'm sorry...”  
“Tony-”  
“Please...please, don't... I'm sorry!” he tripped over his own feet, landing on his butt on the floor as he continued to scramble away.  
“Tony!” McGee panicked as he watched his friend in the midst of what seemed like an anxiety attack. He looked in his eyes as he crouched down in front of him, once Tony's back hit the wall and he could go no further. But Tony wasn't focused on anything in the room; his eyes were glazed over and he wasn't hearing anything Tim said...

...1977...

“You imbecile!” Tony's father pushed out of his desk chair to dodge the spilled glass of gin and ice that Tony had accidentally knocked into when he came into the room. “Look what you've done!”  
“Dad, I...I'm sorry,” Tony froze where he stood; his small body shaking with the knowledge of what was coming to him.  
“This suit was just cleaned! You stupid little prick!” his face became red with drunken anger.  
“I didn't mean it... It was an accident...” he finally was able to move his legs, taking a few steps back.  
“Don't you try and walk away from me!” he growled.  
“Please...please, Dad...I'm sorry...” he cried.  
“Stop the crying, Junior,” he scowled. “Men don't cry. DiNozzo's do not cry,” he said as he stepped angrily up to him.   
“I can't...help it...”  
“Then I'll give you something to cry about,” he said, right before backhanding him so hard that he fell to the ground with a yelp. From that moment on, Tony wasn't sure what, exactly, his father was saying anymore. All he could register was the pain from every collision of the man's shoe against his curled up body on the floor...

...Present...

“What the hell happened?” Gibbs stalked into the kitchen after tearing up the staircase at the sound of Tony's cries.  
“I dunno, Boss,” McGee looked up at him in fear. “The pasta spilled and he...he just started freaking out; saying he was sorry.”  
Gibbs crouched down beside Tony who was balled up against the wall, sobbing hidden tears as his face was buried behind his knees and his arms tugged tightly around them.   
“Boss, he was acting like I was gonna hit him; begging me not to. But I think...I think he said 'dad',” he worriedly met Gibbs' eyes.  
“Flashback?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.  
“Possible... Boss, his father... I mean, I heard Tony talking to you last night, but I didn't think he was having flashbacks from his childhood. I thought...”  
“Yeah, me either, Tim,” Gibbs turned back to Tony put a hand on his arm, not surprised by the violent flinch the contact caused. “Tony, it's me; it's Gibbs.” Tony just drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “C'mon, Tony. You're okay now, ya know. Your dad can't hurt you anymore. Not while I'm here. Made you a promise, remember?” his voice became softer as he edged in a bit closer. Tony only seemed to curl tighter into himself. Gibbs looked over at McGee, “Go get my dad, Tim.”  
The agent tried not to show his surprise at the request, but instead stood to fulfill the request. “Sure, Boss.” As he turned, he noticed Ziva standing just outside on the deck, hesitant to enter. Tim held up a finger, gesturing for her to wait, and she nodded before he carried on with his task.  
Gibbs moved to sit beside Tony up against the wall; a position he was well aware Tony had been comfortable with in these past days. He put an arm around his shoulders, carefully, and settled the weight down slowly. “Tony? Can ya hear me?”  
Tony sniffed. “He broke me, Gibbs,” he whispered.  
“What?”  
“The bad man...broke us. Both of us,” he picked his head up and turned himself to face Gibbs. “This never happened...I never felt it like this before what he did,” his voice cracked in and out of a broken whisper as he spoke. “I see it... I see what the bad man did and I feel it. But I never felt what my dad did to me when I remembered before...not like this.”  
“We're gonna fix this,” Gibbs told him.  
“But what if you can't?” fresh tears streamed his cheeks. “What if we're broken forever? I don't wanna be scared all the time, Gibbs. I don't wanna be that way in front of my friends. They won't wanna see me anymore...” his faced scrunched in anguish. “You won't wanna see me anymore.”  
“What do I need to say to get you to understand?” he began, “Hell, you could accidentally burn my house down and I still would never cut you outta my life, Tony.” Gibbs took Tony's face in his hands, “No matter what, I will always be here for you. You got that?”  
Tony swallowed, then pushed forward to hug around Gibbs' neck tightly. Gibbs was relieved by the gesture and returned it. For several long moments, he listened to and felt Tony's breathing calm, and the shaking begin to ease. Then, he spoke, “I think I know what we have to do.” He pulled away to look at Gibbs' face. “We have to go back.”  
“Back where?” he asked.  
Tony took several breaths before replying, “To the bad place...”


	22. Chapter 22

McGee and Ziva worked together to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor and start the other box of noodles, while Gibbs and his father sat in the living room with Tony, who was now comfortably seated on the couch with his knees pulled up in front of his chest. Jethro sat faithfully in front of the couch with his head on the cushion beside Tony, and Tony absentmindedly rubbed the dog's head.  
“You really wanna go back there?” Gibbs asked.  
Tony met his eyes, “Not just me. I need you, too. Maybe if we go there, Tony will really see you. Maybe he'll believe me...”  
“I'm not sure...” Gibbs shook his head, afraid that taking him back there might only make things worse. “Not sure that makes much sense.”  
“Maybe in his mind, it does, Leroy,” Jackson said. “And it's his mind he's trapped in.”  
After a moment, Gibbs took a breath and let it out in a long sigh. He didn't want to go back to that place, probably any more than Tony did. But so far, no one had given him any better a suggestion. “Okay, Tony,” he said, meeting his eyes. “We'll go when Ducky says you're okay to travel. And he's comin' with us, in case anything goes wrong.”  
Tony was a mixture of emotions. He was happy that Gibbs had agreed, but terrified of going back to that place, and unsure whether or not his idea would work at all. But he was also determined to at least try.   
“Anyone hungry?” McGee asked cautiously as he entered the doorway to the living room from the kitchen.   
Gibbs looked at Tony, who seemed to be happy for the change of topic as he stood from the couch. “Can I have two meatballs?” he asked Tim.  
McGee, relieved that Tony seemed to be okay now, smiled, “Sure, Tony. There are plenty; if you finish those, you can have more, if you want.”  
“Can Jethro have spaghetti, too? Can he sit on the floor next to me?”  
“He can sit on the floor next to you, but he eats his own food; not people food,” Tim said sternly, but with a slight smirk.  
Tony didn't argue, but seemed pleased to have been allowed as much as he had been. Ziva and Tim dished out the food on each plate as Gibbs, Tony and Jackson each took a seat at the table and awaited their servers to join them.   
Dinner went by with light conversation and without incident. Though it wasn't completely expected that anything else would happen that evening, it was difficult not to be on alert. But they did their best not to show their worry to Tony, as he seemed to be enjoying the meal and the company. And Gibbs, who'd sat to his right, didn't miss the quiet giggles whenever a bit of Tony's food “accidentally” dropped to the floor and Jethro gobbled it up with a smooth lightning speed that would impress a Navy Seal.  
It made the lead agent smirk every time it happened and Tony inconspicuously glanced over at Tim to make sure he hadn't seen it. The last time, Gibbs happened to look over at McGee as well, and when Tony looked back down at his plate, McGee met Gibbs eyes and gave him a knowing smirk, indicating to their boss that he really hadn't missed any of it.  
When they were finished, Tony went straight into helping to clear the table. Once everything seemed put up, he turned to McGee, “Can I take Jethro out back?”  
“Sure. I'll go with you,” Tim said as they made their way out the deck door.   
Once the door was closed behind them, Jackson turned to his son, “You know where that boy's father is, Leroy?” The question wasn't completely surprising, but Gibbs raised his brows anyway. “Just seems to me, the man needs to be given a new orifice, and I've got just the shotgun to give it with.”  
“I've been tryin' to find the guy for over six weeks now, dad,” he replied.   
“Been tryin' to contact, you mean. There's a difference.”  
“What do you want me to do?” Gibbs asked, slightly agitated by the insinuation. “I'm tryin' to be here for Tony; not go off on a bounty hunt. Trackin' him down is gonna take time because the man doesn't wanna be found. And even if we knew where he was, he'd pay people off to tell us otherwise.”  
“Don't you want to hunt the bastard down, Leroy?” Jackson narrowed his eyes in question. Ziva quietly observed the conversation as she dried the dishes.  
“What I want is for Tony to get better,” he glared at his father. “DiNozzo Senior isn't a threat to him anymore. But when Tony is better, I'll proceed however he'll allow me to. This isn't about me or any of the rest of us. It's about Tony. If I thought, even for a second, that he was in danger because of him, I'd take him out without a second thought. But this is Tony's call; not mine.”  
Jackson looked at him for a moment before nodding in understanding.

*~.~*

“Hey, McGee?” Tony said as he looked over at him from the other side of the lawn.   
“Yeah?”  
“I uh...I'm sorry.”  
Tim felt his gut churn a bit, and wondered if Tony was somehow slipping into another flashback. He swallowed. “Why?”  
“For freakin' out earlier,” he told him. Tim let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding; relieved that this wasn't what he'd thought it might be. “It was stupid, and I'm sure it probably made you think I was crazy.”  
McGee took a few steps toward him as Jethro trotted along around them, and his brows furrowed a bit, “I didn't think that.”  
“Well, still.”  
“You don't have to apologize, for a couple of reasons,” Tim pulled out the logic for him. “One, you can't help when you have a flashback. And two, you didn't freak anyone out. We're only concerned about your well-being, and we're not going to run away as easily as you seem to think,” he gave him a small smile.   
Tony tilted his head a bit as he let the words sink in. His attention was pulled by the white clouds overhead; their shapes oddly symmetrical to one another, almost like someone had put them there intentionally.   
Suddenly, Jethro chose to playfully butt into Tony from behind, knocking the startled man backward over the dog and flat on his backside with a yelp.  
Tim's eyes grew wide, “Tony!” he rushed to his side.  
But Tony was laughing. “What the heck, Jethy!?” he giggled before wrapping an arm around the dog and playfully wrestling him to the ground.  
McGee was relieved at the sight and took a breath as he watched them continue to play.


	23. Chapter 23

“Jethro, I'm not certain this is the best course of action,” Ducky said after Gibbs explained Tony's request. “However, I suppose I can understand it.”  
Gibbs raised his brows in a bit of surprise. “Ya think he can handle it?”   
“Physically, I believe he is well enough for the journey,” the doctor told him. “However, I'm unsure as to how he will emotionally process being back in that room. I think it would be best if I were to come along on this trip. If he becomes agitated to the point of losing control, I may be able to administer something to calm him.”  
“He needs to be able to climb out of there, Duck. There's a manhole down to the sub-level. If you knock him out, I dunno that it'll be easy to carry him out.”  
“Well, my intention isn't to sedate him, but to give him something to calm him. He may need assistance getting out, but certainly shouldn't need to be carried.”  
Gibbs nodded; eyes darting around as he thought. “When do you think we should go?”  
“I'd suggest during daylight hours, for one,” Ducky replied. “We could go tomorrow morning, unless we're called in for a case. I think it would be a good idea to bring young Timothy along with us, as well. Anthony seems to have taken on a strong liking of the lad; it'd be wise to have his two closest friends nearby during what will most definitely be a very difficult experience.”  
“Right,” Gibbs nodded in agreement. “I'll call McGee tonight; ask if he'll come.” His gaze dropped somewhere on the floor between them.   
Dr. Mallard narrowed his eyes a bit at his friend. Being one of the few people who could ever tell when Leroy Jethro Gibbs was in some sort of inner turmoil, the stance that his friend had taken allowed Ducky to detect it now. “This won't be difficult for just Tony,” he said softly. Gibbs met his eyes again. “Returning to where you found him, I'm most certain it will be a challenge for you and McGee, as well.” His eyes showed a level of sympathy that he hoped wouldn't offend Gibbs.  
But Gibbs narrowed his eyes at his friend in a small amount of retort, “Memories are still fresh for the both of us, Duck; finding him that way. But this'll be tough on Tony; not us. And we'll be there for him.”  
“Won't be as tough, perhaps,” Ducky corrected. But for the sake of changing a subject that Gibbs would most likely never completely agree on, he said, “I'll give Agent Fornell a call to inquire as to the state of the room; I assume it's been cleaned up.”  
“Not sure they sent in a cleaning crew,” Gibbs said with a raised brow, “But I know all the evidence was collected. There shouldn't be any trinkets lyin' around.”  
“Perhaps a less intimidating scene will make it a bit easier for our Tony,” Ducky said as his gaze drifted a bit. “I've been thinking, Jethro,” he began. “The electroconvulsive sessions Cullen subjected him to...I wonder if it somehow triggered the switch in personalities.”  
“Is that even possible?”  
“I don't claim to know,” Ducky raised his brows. “It's never been documented, as far as I can tell. But this is a very secluded case; very different in what I presume patients of ECT have been in the past. Generally, symptoms from ECT involve short-term memory loss; mostly temporary at that. Depression can often occur as well.”  
“He seems to be pretty happy, aside from the flashbacks,” Gibbs told him.  
“Yes, well...he isn't short any memory either. Not as far as we can tell.”  
“Do you think he would need ECT to...fix him?”  
“On the contrary, I believe that would only make it worse,” Ducky told him in a grim tone. “All I'm trying to convey, is the possibility that there may not be a way to reverse it at all.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes again. “Tony's disassociation with his adult self could be that he is only aware that it is no longer there.”  
“What are you sayin', Ducky?”  
“What I'm saying, Jethro, is that our Tony may not be there at all. There's no telling how often and how many times Cullen ran unknown amounts of electricity through Anthony's body. We need to be prepared for that, if that is, indeed, the case,” he took a breath. “We may have already lost him...”

...Day 29 in Captivity...

“No, no, please!” Tony shamelessly cried out as he was laid out on the table top, too weak to fight or escape where he was placed. “Please, not again!”  
“It's going to help you,” Cullen said, calmly.  
“Please, sir...pleasepleaseplease...I'll do anything! Please, don't do this again...”  
“Soon enough, Anthony. Soon, you'll be ready.”  
Tony sobbed, squeezing his eyes closed as Cullen fit the band around his head. The need for paralyzing drugs was no longer necessary, and the last time they'd done this, the pain had been unbearable. He thought he would die...  
Knowing what was to come, was possibly even more frightening than the actual event itself. In fact, it was straight out of a human biology text book. It was instinct to fear that which would cause harm or pain or both to your person.   
If a child was stung by a bee at some point in their life, no matter how great that pain might have been at the time, whenever they saw one of the nasty critters or even heard one buzzing around, that fear would come on all the stronger. It might not even have to do with the the sting itself, but the stinger left behind once the bee fell away; the pulsating should-be-dead back end still pumping venom into the skin was a sight that always stuck in the mind. The pain would fade eventually; not important enough to recall how it felt exactly. But the image...that would never go away. The sight; the sound; the fear...  
The sight; perhaps a list of them, really. Looking up at the bulb that swung overhead, was one; step one, to be precise. It was the first indication of where he'd been placed and what was to come. There was only one reason he was ever laid out on the table like this. Step two was always the generator being set up beside him.  
The sound; the music box. It wasn't always the case, during torture, that Cullen would wind the dreaded thing up. But in this case, every time the ECT was going to be done, that tune would play, and Cullen would hum. The sound of buzzing from the electricity fell directly in line with the reception of pain.  
The fear; once the shock would stop. Mostly, it was because he wasn't sure if he would do it again, or if it would just be once, this time. But Tony knew, deep down in whatever part of him was still able to process thought, that each session was longer than the previous. The fear, was knowing it was going to happen again. And again. And again...

...Present...

Gibbs shook his head, “We haven't lost him, Ducky. You're wrong. I'd know it.”  
“I do hope that you are, indeed, correct, Jethro,” the doctor told him. “I believe I shall take my leave,” he said as he stood from the chair. “I'll see you in the morning. Do try and get some sleep.”

11 00 11 00 11

0915...

Tony and Tim sat in the back of the car while Gibbs drove and Ducky sat up front in the passenger seat. It was quiet; all four of them silent for different respective reasons, yet all very much the same: uncertainty.   
McGee was apprehensive about going back to that room; where he'd once thought his friend was dead. That room, he knew Tony had suffered great tortures in; things they were still not a hundred percent clear about, at that. Things that had reduced the once lively and energetic, loud and sometimes a bit obnoxious—but in a funny way—man, into this little boy, however loveable and easier to get along with. He missed his friend.   
Ducky went over the mental checklist of items he'd packed in his medical bag for the event. He'd not been to the room, himself, but he'd seen the pictures the Fornell's team had taken. He knew what to expect visually. What he was unsure of, however, was how Tony would react to being there. Though it was the younger man's request to go, it almost seemed like a cruel self-punishment. But if that were the case, there was a lot more of their Tony in that little boy than they'd originally thought.  
Gibbs felt like he was going to vomit; quite literally. He'd been fighting the rising bile for a mile now, and that's what he'd decided to focus all his attention to, aside from the road. He'd been thinking about the moments leading up to finding Tony; the way the smell of death had wafted toward him when he kicked open that door. Those seemingly long moments when he thought his friend was dead on that wall...   
The words Ducky had said to him last night, 'We may have already lost him,' stuck out in his mind, and he desperately tried to push them away. There was no way he was letting him go that easily.   
As they pulled onto Shaun Cullen's land and onto the familiar private road leading toward their destination, he glanced into the rear view. Tony was quietly gazing absentmindedly out his window. McGee had taken on a renewed look of nervousness and began chewing at his thumbnail. This path, Tim had ridden as well; Gibbs knew the feeling his agent felt right now. A feeling Tony didn't have yet, since he'd not been aware or possibly even conscious when he'd been brought here the first time.  
By the time they reached the hanger, McGee's stomach was literally hurting from the nerves. The four of them piled out of the car, Gibbs grabbing a couple of lanterns from the trunk before they headed toward the structure.   
“I'll head down first,” Gibbs said as he handed one of the lanterns to Ducky. He descended the ladder into the sub-level, then turned on the lantern to its highest setting and looked up to see Tony begin his descent. Ducky followed, and then McGee; all waiting to go forward until they reached the same level and both lanterns were on.  
Gibbs led the way to the room, putting a hand on Tony's chest to halt him. “Wait a minute,” he told him. “Let me check it out first.” Tony nodded and Gibbs pushed open the door. He set the lantern on the table, grateful that it was powerful enough to properly light the room. The smell wasn't as bad. Apparently, Fornell had his team lay down some kind of absorbent litter over the previously bloodied area beneath the wall where Tony had been held. All of the objects; the music box, generator, ropes and chains and other items that Cullen had brought in, had been collected and removed for evidence.   
Gibbs walked back into the hall and gave the group a small nod. Tony entered with Gibbs and looked around with a slightly blank expression. As the other two filed into the room, Gibbs didn't take his eyes off of his senior field agent. “You okay, Tony?” he asked, quietly. Tony's eyes continued to scan, skittering around the room as he stood still in the center of it. “Tony?” Gibbs turned to face him and put a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, Tony's eyes found Gibbs', but just as quickly flicked away into the air somewhere beside him.   
Gibbs wasn't sure what was happening, and it was impossible to read the expression, or lack thereof, on Tony's face. Ducky observed close by, not noticing any change in respiration in the agent, and therefore not yet becoming anxious just yet. McGee, however, was slightly frightened by the lack of response. He glanced at Gibbs, worriedly.  
“Tony, can you hear me?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to him. Without warning, Tony's legs seemed to give out. Gibbs and McGee caught either side of him before he could completely collapse, and gently lowered him to a kneeling position. Gibbs looked up at Ducky who had rushed to his side. “Duck? What's happening?”  
“I'm not sure, Jethro,” he replied, taking Tony's wrist and checking his pulse. “His heart rate seems normal, as does his breathing.” Ducky looked at Tony, “Anthony? Can you hear us?” Tony didn't so much as move his eyes to look at him.  
“Tony?” McGee squeezed his shoulder as he assisted in holding him upright. There was still no response.   
“This...may be an absence seizure,” Ducky said as he looked closely at Tony's face.  
“There was no trauma to the head, Ducky. You said so yourself. And he's never had this before; at least, that's what his medical records say.”  
“Yes, well...while it seems a bit unlikely, it could be linked to the psychological trauma he endured in this room. I suspect...that he was trying to process this. I think we should wait it out, and then get him out of here...”

...In the Dark...

“Tony...” the boy's voice called out to him from the dark. But Tony curled up tighter under the table. “Tony, come on. I know you're there.”  
“Go away. I told you to leave me alone.”  
“I can't. I thought I told you that.”  
Tony opened his eyes and saw the boy crouched down in front of him. “Why won't you just leave me alone?” he whispered.  
“I told you why. We're the same person.”   
Tony narrowed his eyes at the boy and blinked a few times as the room seemed to change a bit around him. “What's happening?”  
The boy smiled a bit, “You're startin' to see.”  
“What?” he looked around as the items of torture began to fade away, ending with the music box. His eyes fixed back on the boy.   
“Come on; get up.”  
“I...I can't.”  
“Yes, ya can,” he replied, standing and roughly pushing the table back and away from where it had been sheltering him. “Just get up, Tony. I'll help you.” He grabbed hold of Tony's arm and started tugging. “You've gotta remember, you've already been saved from here. I've been tryin' to tell you, but you won't believe me. So I brought them with me to come get you.”  
Tony was helped up to a kneeling position as he looked into the familiar eyes of the boy. “I don't understand. Who are you?” he asked weakly.   
The boy shook his head and smirked, “I told ya, Tony; I'm you. I've been out there waiting for you all this time. You just gotta remember me...” he placed his hand against Tony's cheek.  
Tony gasped in a large breath as his mind was suddenly flooded with memories; ones that didn't really belong to him, but had him in them. His rescue...the hospital...the little girl with the bear...Gibbs...his friends... “What...what's happening?” he asked in a shaky voice.  
“You're seeing,” the boy replied. “You're remembering...”  
And as he said it, Tony drifted vividly into a memory of himself on Gibbs' couch, with Gibbs; one he had no recollection of participating in...

**Gibbs put his arm around Tony's shoulders, "You okay?" Tony nodded without looking over at him, but lowered his head to Gibbs' shoulder and rested it there. "You sure, buddy? She was kinda pushy."  
"She was just doin' her job," he said, sullenly. "I've had counselors before. They're all the same, really. They think they know everything of how the brain works, and that they have an answer for makin' it all better. But really, they don't. They never do..."  
"Well don't say that. We're gonna fix this, Tony, I promise you. But I'm not gonna risk losin' you in the process."  
"But...what if it's the only way to get your Tony back?" he asked in a quiet voice.  
"You are my Tony, too," he told him. "You both are. You both belong out here together as one."  
Tony pulled away and looked at him as he shook his head, "You don't want me. I'd just make it harder," he told him. "I'm supposed to stay inside where I can hold onto the things he doesn't want people to see, for as long as I can."  
"No," Gibbs replied, putting a hand on the side of Tony's neck. "That's not where you belong, Tony. You don't belong locked up inside your head. Don't ya see, that's exactly what he's doin'. And it's 'cause he's scared."  
"But I'm scared, too..."  
"What are you scared of?"  
"Bein' out here...without him," he replied.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, "But you've been in there, all alone, for most of your life. And you've seen every scary and sad moment that he ever has."  
"Yeah... I have. Tony can do that; he can get through those things. Not me."  
"I think you underestimate yourself," Gibbs told him. "I believe in you, Tony. And I'm a pretty damn good judge of people. Now, when we get him out here, I don't want you hiding back in there. I won't accept it, are we clear?"  
"But, Gibbs-"  
"No, Tony. You need to listen to me! You're one of my own; one I didn't even know was there until recently, and I won't leave you behind. I refuse to. If you leave...I'll be...very disappointed..."   
"But...if I stay out here, he won't be able to hide things. You'll end up having to do what you've been doin' for me. You'll see him when he's afraid and when he's upset."  
"I don't care about that, Tony. He'll figure out how to deal with it, in time. You both will; it's what you should've done from the beginning, but your father stole that opportunity from you. People learn how to deal with things like fear and sadness, by experiencing them in doses. But you...you had some bad things happen to you and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. But you should never have thought, even for a second, that the solution was to get rid of yourself."  
Tony's eyes focused on Gibbs' chest as he considered what Gibbs had told him. "I'm sorry...I didn't know..."**

Then Tony was back there in the room with the boy. He was beginning to understand, although still a bit confused. But he didn't know what to say.  
“Can you see them now, Tony?” the boy asked.   
Tony furrowed his brow, “Who?”  
“Our friends,” he replied. Tony shook his head. “Ya gotta come back with me. Gibbs made me promise. He made me promise we'd come back together. Will you come back with me?”  
Tony swallowed, suddenly overcome with a strange feeling of hope he'd not felt in...so long. He nodded. The boy smiled and wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight hug, to which Tony could only respond with returning; wrapping his arms around the boy's small torso.   
Light suddenly consumed them, and Tony had to shut his eyes when it began to sting them...

...In the Room...

Tony's eyes clamped shut; the first sign of change since he'd become unresponsive. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “Tony? You back with us?” he asked.  
Slowly, Tony opened his eyes and looked directly at him with a look of complete shock...perhaps relief as well.   
“Boss?”


	24. Chapter 24

“DiNozzo?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, swallowing a lump that suddenly formed in his throat.  
“Boss...you- you found me. You saved me...” Tony sought confirmation from the man he knew would tell him the truth.  
Gibbs took a breath, “Yeah, Tony. We did. Had a lot of help from you.”  
Tony's eyes darted around in deep thought before settling back on his boss. “Cullen's dead?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You remember?”  
His gaze shifted again, “There was a boy,” he told him. “He said you made him promise he would stay. He showed me... Boss, he said he was me,” he met his eyes again. “What's that mean?”  
“Give it some time,” he replied. “You'll remember that, too.”  
Tony looked to the side, noticing the others. “McGoo...Ducky... What're you doin' here?”  
“Well, making sure that you're okay, of course,” Ducky replied for them. “How are you feeling, Anthony?”  
Tony shuddered, closing his eyes briefly, at the use of his full name, “Don't...don't call me that. Not here,” he replied, meeting the doctor's eyes again. Ducky's eyes flashed with a sudden understanding. “I'm...actually not feeling too bad. Tired...really tired. But not bad.”  
“Let's get you outta here so you can get home and rest, then,” Gibbs said, helping him to stand as he did.  
“Not makin' me go to the hospital?” Tony asked, incredulously.  
“Already did that,” Gibbs replied, squinting in question, until he watched Tony close his eyes, and he tightened his grip on the agent's arm.  
The memories flooded into his mind; waking in the hospital; talking to Gibbs... Greeting friends he seemed to be meeting all over again. It was like watching a movie through someone else's eyes, though he knew they were really from him.   
Tony opened his eyes, “I remember...”  
Gibbs nodded, acknowledging him. “Good. C'mon; let's get outta here.”

11 00 11 00 11

McGee sat up front, shotgun from Gibbs, as Ducky sat in the back with a fast-asleep Tony at his side. Gibbs didn't go unaware of the nervousness radiating from the man beside him. Tim's thumb tapped incessantly on his thigh as his eyes darted around somewhere ahead of them on the road.  
“Somethin' on your mind, McGee?” Gibbs asked, quietly.  
McGee glanced over at him. He thought, for a moment, about denying it. But he knew better. “I was uh...just thinking. What if when he wakes up, he's gone again?”   
Gibbs raised his brows as he glanced at the agent again before looking back out on the road. “Cross that bridge if we come to it. But I think he's back to stay, Tim.”  
McGee nodded, acknowledging what he'd been told, and finding hope in his boss's faith. He wanted to ask more. Like, 'What happens now?' or 'What can I do to help?' But it all seemed like more questions that needed time before they could be answered. So he chose, instead, to look out the window, trying not to focus on anything in particular as it whipped by. 

11 00 11 00 11

Once back at the house, Tim and Ducky said their goodbyes. Tony took a seat on the couch, looking lost in thought in the silence. Gibbs went into the kitchen to brew another pot of coffee, being sure to glance inconspicuously at his agent, now and then.   
He knew Tony had to be processing everything; wondering how it all fit together; how he'd managed to lock himself away without realizing it. He wanted to give him that time to think, but at the same time, he really didn't want him to become overwhelmed in the confusion.  
Once the coffee was done, Gibbs poured two cups, fixing Tony's the way he liked it, before bringing them to the living room. He set them down on the coffee table and took a seat beside his agent, who looked over at him when he felt the couch cushion dip. “Thought you might want some coffee,” he said.  
Tony looked at the cup in front of him on the table and gave a small smirk, “Thanks, Boss.”  
Gibbs watched as Tony picked up the mug, carefully, with both hands; managing a small sip before the slight tremor in his hands forced him to place it back down. Gibbs took a quiet breath, “Doin' okay?”  
Tony sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. “I'm sorry, Boss... I'm remembering everything now; being here for the past...I don't even know how many days. All the conversations you had with me...him... God, I don't even...” his fists balled up against his forehead, “Am I even...real?” he looked over at Gibbs, who gave him an inquisitive raising of his brow. “I'm some...creation from the mind of a ten-year old. What...what does that mean for me?” his breathing showed his panic in the confusion.  
“You're real, Tony,” Gibbs replied, narrowing his eyes. “I don't think you were ever not you. I think you decided to adapt to your situation and grow up a lot faster than you needed to, in whatever ways you knew how to at the time.”  
Tony looked at him for a long moment as he allowed the words to absorb and process. Then he looked down at his coffee again and let out a breath. “I guess you're right, Boss.”  
“I usually am,” Gibbs smirked.   
Tony gave a small chuckle, “Yeah...yeah, you are.” He went to pick up his cup again, decidedly leaving it where it sat and sighing. “I'm sorry,” he shook his head. “God it's embarrassing that you had to see me like that...”  
“Like what?”   
Tony gave him an incredulous look, “Come on, Boss, really?”  
“There's nothin' to be embarrassed about. Ya make a pretty lovable kid, DiNozzo,” he smirked.  
Tony squinted and looked off to the side in thought, “I'm...not sure how to take that.”  
“As a compliment,” he replied. “You were always pretty tough, apparently. You just didn't think so, back then. It's why I know you're not just some make-believe identity.” Tony met his eyes and swallowed. “Only difference was, your younger self was more willing to talk to me about what was troubling you.”  
“No offense, Boss,” Tony retorted, “But you're usually not very interested in hearing about my problems.”  
Gibbs cocked his head and raised his brows, “That's...true to an extent,” he admitted. “But not like you think. There's a place and a time for things; and when it's somethin' like this,” he narrowed his eyes as they bore into Tony's, “When it's somethin' like...what your father did to you as a child... Tony, you know...you know you can come to me, right?” his eyes were almost pleading for an affirmative answer. “I do care about you. I hope you know that.”  
A memory came up to the surface, then.   
He'd been ill; a headache. Lying in bed, Gibbs there beside him to ward off nightmares, Tony whispered, “I love you.”  
To which Gibbs replied, “Love you too, Buddy.” And now Tony could detect the emotion behind that statement. It was almost overwhelming...  
Tony's vision became a bit cloudy and he blinked to clear it, trying also to find a response. But he was interrupted when the front door opened, and Jackson walked into the house carrying a paper grocery bag.  
“Tony! Leroy!” he greeted. “I didn't expect you to be back so soon. I went up to the market to get some things to make a stew for this evening.”  
Tony was partially relieved to have the moment interrupted. It was ridiculously difficult for him to hold in the sudden onset of what seemed to be tears, and for that, he had no explanation.   
“Dad, you didn't have to do that,” Gibbs said as he stood. “Anything you need help bringin' in?”  
“Nah, this is all there is,” he said as he made his way to the kitchen. “Wish I'd have known you'd be back so soon. I would've made lunch.”  
“That's okay. We can order somethin',” Gibbs turned to Tony. “Any requests for lunch?”  
Tony cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders a bit as he thought, then smirked, “What I wouldn't do for a slice of pizza!”  
Gibbs returned the smirk and went out to the kitchen to grab his phone. Something flashed in Tony's mind then. For a moment he blinked and shook his head. But there was something there; something trying to come out.   
He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest and his breathing became more struggled. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down, but behind closed lids, he saw the beginning of a memory...

The music box began to play; Cullen humming along with the tune as he sort of danced about the room. In his hand, he held a box; twirling around the table until he stood in front of Tony. “Are you hungry?” he asked, then turned to place the box on the table.  
“Y- yes...sir...” he swallowed against his dry throat. It had been days since he was even given any broth.  
“I've got...a sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese pizza here,” he said. “I'd be happy to let you have some...if you'd be willing to do something for me?”  
The aroma filled Tony's nostrils and nearly brought tears to his eyes. He'd never been so hungry in his life. “Okay...okay, what? What do you want?” he asked.  
Cullen grinned and looked into his eyes, “I just need you...on your hands and knees,” he told him in a low voice. “Think you can do that for me?”  
Tony scrunched his face as he tried to piece together what that meant, through the fog that was thick in his brain. “Uh...you... Why?”  
“I'm hungry, too, Anthony,” he sneered, breath hitting Tony's ear in a nauseating way.

“No...” Tony stood from the couch, willing his answer in the memory to be the same. He nearly tripped over the coffee table-leg as he scrambled away...

“I...” Tony fought an inner battle. He didn't want this; didn't want to give Cullen what he wanted. But part of him knew he would die if he didn't eat something soon.   
“If you don't want it, I'll just take it home,” Cullen turned and closed the box.  
“No! No, wait...” Tony pleaded. “I'll do it... I'll do what you want...”

“No no no...” Tony stumbled up the stairs toward his room, trying to somehow escape the memory.  
“Tony?” Gibbs came out of the kitchen after hearing his sudden panic, and was a bit shocked at the look on his agent's face before Tony disappeared up the steps. 

Cullen unchained Tony's rope-covered wrists and helped him to the floor. “I need you to stay put now; no lying down on the job,” he told him as he fashioned Tony in the desired position; knees a bit apart on the floor, and hands under his shoulders beneath him. “Have you ever done this?” he asked.  
Tony cringed, clenching his teeth, “No...no, sir. Just...please just get it over with,” he said in barely a whisper.  
“I'll try to be gentle,” Cullen breathed against his ear.  
“Don't...do me any favors,” Tony shuddered. He jumped at the sound of Cullen unzipping his pants behind him. 'Oh god,' he thought. 'This is really happening...oh god...' He swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to mentally escape this moment. 'Suck it up, DiNozzo...just...just fucking suck it up. If I'm lucky, this'll be over quick. Then I can eat...maybe stay alive a little longer. Long enough for Gibbs to find--' His thoughts were quickly cut off by his own scream of agony...

“Tony?” Gibbs crouched down in front of his agent who had curled up, sitting on the floor with his back up against the side of the bed that was facing away from the door. His knees were pulled tightly to his chest; his face hidden behind his knees as he rocked slightly back and forth. “Tony, what's wrong? What's goin' on?” he asked in a calming voice.  
Tony shook his head without looking up, “I can't...I can't tell you...” it was whispered, but Gibbs could sense the tears in his voice anyway.  
“Yeah ya can,” he replied, moving to sit down beside him. He hoped the gesture would be familiar to him as he put his arm around his shoulders.   
“Can't tell you...what I let him do...”   
“You can tell me anything, Tony.” It was then that he recalled overhearing what the younger Tony had told McGee. It was the night they'd had pizza, and he had been sick...

"The pizza...made me remember something. That's why I got sick..."  
Tim furrowed his brow, "Do you wanna talk about what you remembered?"  
Tony shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, "No. I don't wanna remember it, either. I don't wanna remember what I saw..."  
"Sometimes talking about it helps," he insisted. "Holding onto it all by yourself can make it hurt even more."  
"I'm not holding onto it all by myself. It was Tony who the bad man hurt... He did bad things to Tony..." he whispered. "But I can't tell you. He wouldn't want me to tell you."  
"Well...why wouldn't he want you to tell me?" he questioned.  
"'Cause...he let it happen..."  
“This has somethin' to do with the pizza we found in Cullen's fridge, doesn't it?” Gibbs asked.  
Tony's head shot up and he met Gibbs' eyes with his own that were filled with shame and torment. He swallowed; trying to swallow the intensity of what he was feeling; something he'd never really had a problem with before. But now, it seemed nearly impossible. He was going to break down in front of his Boss, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself. “Oh god...what's wrong with me?” he hid his face again.  
Gibbs tightened his arm, “Talk to me, Tony. Don't be ashamed to tell me.”  
“You don't understand, Boss...” his voice was quiet but thick with anguish. “You don't know what I...what I let him do...”  
“Then tell me.”  
“I can't,” he shook his head. “I can't, Boss...it's so fucking...humiliating...”  
“I'm not here to judge you, Tony. You can tell me anything; I mean that.”  
Tony's hands moved from their securing around his legs, up into his hair as he gripped onto it. Gibbs could tell that he was trying to bring himself into some sort of level of calm before he spoke. After several breaths, he finally started, “He hadn't fed me anything...in days. I was sure that I would...probably not last much...longer...” he told him without looking up from where he hid his face. “I...had to stay alive, Gibbs. Had to give you more time...to find me,” he looked at him then. “Said he'd... give me the pizza,” he said, and swallowed before turning away again; covering his face. “God...Boss, I s-sold my ass for a fucking pizza...” he tightened his grip on his hair.  
Gibbs' gut twisted in anger and utter despair as he realized exactly what Tony was saying. He'd been raped. Cullen had manipulated him into agreeing to be raped in exchange for food.   
Guilt twisted like a knife, deeper into his gut. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered, and apparently Tony sensed the guilt in it, because he turned to look at him. “I...should've found you sooner,” his voice cracked. “This wouldn't have happened.”  
“This isn't your fault,” Tony said, almost angered by what he'd said.  
“You so sure about that?” Gibbs met his eyes, and Tony was lost for words for a moment by the sadness he saw in them. “I was never upset with you, Tony,” he told him. Tony gave him a confused look. “That morning...when I made you ride by yourself... It wasn't because of anything you did. I'd had a bad morning, and I ended up takin' it out on you. Nearly ended up getting you killed. I don't...I don't know what I would've done...”  
“I never blamed you, Gibbs,” Tony told him in a quiet voice. “And I never even once thought you'd stop lookin' for me. Hell, there were several times I was pretty fucking sure no one would ever find me... But, I knew you wouldn't stop lookin'. And that's why I...had to try and stay alive as long as I could.”  
Relieved that Tony knew that, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “What he did to you...Tony, that was a manipulation. He knew everything there was to know about you, and he knew how to make you give in. You were forced, whether you agreed to it or not; it was something you didn't want. You did it to stay alive; you did what you had to.”  
“He didn't know everything, Boss,” Tony told him. “He didn't know I had you.”


	25. Chapter 25

“He okay, Leroy?” Jackson asked as Gibbs came back to the kitchen.  
“Yeah, he will be,” he replied. “He's takin' a shower. I think we should probably skip pizza for now. I'll order some Chinese. Want anything?”  
“Not a fan of cat-meat,” Jackson chuckled. “I think I saw some stuff to make sandwiches. I'll just make myself one of those.”  
“They don't actually serve cat, Dad,” Gibbs shook his head.  
“Well, if it's all the same to you, I don't much care for the stuff. MSG isn't good for your old man anyway.”  
“Okay,” Gibbs surrendered and grabbed his phone from the counter.   
“Ya know, I could save ya the cash and just make sandwiches for all of us,” he offered.  
“I don't want you to go to any trouble, Dad. You're already fixin' to make stew.”  
“It's no trouble, son. Really. What do ya think I came here for?”  
“Not to be our personal chef,” Gibbs smirked.  
“Well, I gotta do somethin', Leroy. Seems to me you've got pretty much everything else covered; you and your team, that is.”  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “Wouldn't have called ya down here if I hadn't needed ya.” Jackson looked over at him, and Gibbs took a few steps back toward his father. “I'm glad you came, Dad; I mean that. And I didn't ask ya here to cook or clean for me, or even to take care of Tony. I asked ya here because... I needed someone to keep my own head on straight,” he looked down for a moment, clearly a bit embarrassed to have to admit this. “Couldn't ask that of my team; they have enough on their minds with Tony. I needed someone who could read my moods a little better; even if I don't readily admit to it being possible,” he smirked as he met Jackson's eyes again.  
The corners of Jackson's lips turned up slowly, and he simply stood there and looked at his son for a few moments. “Well, then,” he said eventually, “You can help your old man fix lunch, in that case, eh?”  
Gibbs let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said as he set his phone down again.

*~.~*

They'd just about finished making lunch and a good amount of small talk, which wasn't completely unheard of between the two; but rare. Jackson was reminding his son of some of the things he'd done as a child that had just about sent him off to the nuthouse, or so he called it, and Gibbs was mid-laughter when they heard a seemingly frightened shout come from upstairs.  
Gibbs dropped the knife in his hand to the counter and sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “DiNozzo?” he yelled as he rounded the corner into the room.   
“Sonofabitch!” Tony yelled from the bathroom, and Gibbs went to the door.  
“What happened?” he asked as he pushed open the door.  
Tony had finished his shower and slipped on a pair of jeans, and was standing in front of the mirror that he'd just wiped down. He turned to face Gibbs and pointed to his hair, “This happened, Gibbs!” he wasn't yelling anymore, but his frustration was clear. “Is it unhealthy to want to murder one's inner child? Seriously?” he turned back to face the mirror. “I...can't believe he did this to me. Not that...this particular cut doesn't look good on some people, Boss,” he said, gazing at Gibbs' smirking reflection. “But this? This isn't me!” he messed with the hair on top of his head and moved it around as if to test a way to hide the Marine cut.  
“It'll grow back. It's just hair, Tony,” Gibbs told him.  
“Yeah...I guess so,” he sighed and pulled up his jeans as they began to droop. “I can't believe McGee went through my closet enough to find these. I've had them since high school. First club I ever went to, I wore these jeans,” he looked up with a reminiscent smile on his face. “They're more of a memento than anything; never thought I'd ever fit into them again,” the smile dropped from his face as he turned to look into the mirror again. “I could probably wear McGoo's clothes right now,” his eye twitched. “And I'm fairly certain he's got a tape worm or something.”  
Gibbs fought to bite back a smile. “McGee has been doin' a lot for you,” he defended. “And none of it particularly pertaining to work.”  
“Yeah, I know,” Tony focused somewhere on the sink. “He's a good friend; I just tease him outta love, Boss,” he glanced back up at Gibbs' reflected with narrowed eyes and a slight grin. Then he sighed and rubbed his hands down his face, “God I'm so embarrassed...” He turned away from the mirror and grabbed his tee shirt from the towel rack. “I can't believe you all had to babysit my ten-year old self,” he pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it down into place.  
“Didn't really have to babysit ya, DiNozzo,” Gibbs retorted. “You were pretty self-sustainable, aside from physical injury. Understandably so, now that I know a little more about your life when you were that age.”  
“You've been stayin' home from work!” Tony shot back, incredulously.  
“I wanted to,” Gibbs remained calm. “Past five weeks have been a living hell. I know yours was worse. But it wasn't exactly a cake-walk for us, either. What makes ya think I wouldn't want some time off?”  
“You never take time off, Boss.”  
“Maybe I felt the stakes were a little higher this time,” he gave Tony the infamous glare that dared him to say otherwise. Tony didn't look away, but blinked as a memory replayed in his mind...

"The bad man...broke us. Both of us," Tony said...  
"We're gonna fix this," Gibbs told him.  
"But what if you can't?" fresh tears streamed his cheeks. "What if we're broken forever? I don't wanna be scared all the time, Gibbs. I don't wanna be that way in front of my friends. They won't wanna see me anymore..." his faced scrunched in anguish. "You won't wanna see me anymore."  
"What do I need to say to get you to understand?" he began, "Hell, you could accidentally burn my house down and I still would never cut you outta my life, Tony... No matter what, I will always be here for you. You got that?"

“Think I get it,” Tony said in a small voice. After a moment, Gibbs nodded and turned to walk out of the bathroom; Tony following behind. “Still...I can't help but to recall that I've cried in front of nearly everyone on the team,” he continued. “And I vaguely recall rolling around in the yard with a dog...” he looked up and to the right in thought.  
Gibbs smirked again, only turning to halfway face him as he stood by the door, “So the secret's out; you used to cry a bit more when you were ten. And ya like McGee's dog more than ya let on.”  
“Hey, now! I like a lot of things I don't let on about. But if he knows I like Jethro, he's gonna ask me to dog-sit sometimes. I'm not a good sitter, Boss. Don't let my inner-child fool you; he might've been okay with running around all afternoon, giving a hundred percent of his attention to the mutt. But I've got things to do!”  
“Like what?” Gibbs cocked his head.  
“Like...like things, Gibbs. Things that don't involve drooly, sheddy, smelly creatures.”  
“Funny, I don't recall him being any of those things.”  
“Yeah, well...” Tony panicked slightly, “Just...just no, Gibbs. He cannot know. Last thing I need is for people to start thinkin' I'm some kinda animal-enthusiast. Next, Abby will be hounding me to go adopt one, myself; no pun intended. And so help me God, Boss! Don't blow my cover, or yours is toast!” he mockingly threatened.  
“Mine?” he raised his brows.  
“Yes, yours! The fact that you're not really the cold-hearted bastard you so purposefully make yourself out to be,” he smirked.   
Gibbs just shook his head, though a smile played on his lips. “You ready for lunch? We made some sandwiches.”  
“Sure, Boss. I'll be down in a minute,” he replied.   
Gibbs gave a short nod and left the room. As he descended the stairs, there came a rapid knocking at the front door. He picked up his pace a bit and opened it.  
“Gibbs!” Abby rushed in and gave him a quick hug. “McGee told me about Tony! Where is he? I need to see him!”  
“Calm down, Abs. He's upstairs,” he gave her a quick smirk and shook his head as she rushed up the staircase. He shook his head and headed back into the kitchen  
Abby reached the top of the stairs just as Tony came out into the hall. “Tony!” she immediately enveloped him into a big, yet moderately gentle hug. “Ohmygod I'm so glad you're back! I missed you so much!” she squeezed.  
“Ah thanks, Abby,” he said as he hugged her back. “But it's getting difficult to breathe.”  
She released him and took his hands in hers as she looked him in the eyes, “So are you okay? Is everything...back to normal? Not that I won't miss the ten-year old you; he was downright adorable! But I'm so so so glad you're back to yourself,” she smiled.  
“I'm okay. And uh...thanks? Adorable, Abs?” he cocked his head.  
“Adorable like a puppy,” she grinned. “I just wanted to scoop you up and give you lots of kisses. Not that I don't always wanna do that, “ she winked. “But it was so cute watching you with Gibbs and McGee...oh and Jethro! Cutest thing ever!”  
Tony rubbed a hand down his face, “Oh god...”   
“Aw, c'mon, Tony!” her face became more serious. “Ya know...it coulda been a lot worse,” she met his eyes with almost tearful ones. “We could've lost you...That little part of you that you've been hiding away, he's so much stronger than you think. He kept you together. Who knows if you ever would've come out of that. I hate to think that you could still be in the hospital, trapped inside your own mind...but it's a possibility. He toughed it out; got you better, and brought you back to us. Well...technically you did all of this...but you know what I mean...”  
Tony gave her a lopsided smile as he put both hands on her arms, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Abby,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her forehead.


	26. Chapter 26

Tony was helping Gibbs with the dishes after the three of them finished off the stew Jackson had prepared for their dinner, when Jackson announced that he was going to sit out on the deck for a short nap. They acknowledged him before Gibbs turned off the sink and joined Tony in drying the rest of the plates.  
“I was thinking about going for a run after while,” Tony said. “Gotta build up my strength if I ever wanna get out in the field again.”  
“Okay,” Gibbs replied. “I'll go with ya. You should start out slow; last thing you want is to get hurt from tryin' too hard and end up delaying yourself even more.”  
Tony nodded, “Right...” What Gibbs had said was logical. He agreed, even. It was sensible and realistic. But something inside him just burned... Apparently, Gibbs hadn't missed it.  
“What is it?” he inquired.   
“Nothing,” he shook his head and attempted a small smile.   
Gibbs wasn't buying. As he moved to put away a few of the dried dishes, he continued to look at Tony expectantly.   
But Tony was just as observant, and noticed this right away. Gibbs wanted the truth, but as far as the truth went, Tony wasn't even exactly sure what he was feeling. So as he handed the dried dishes over to his boss, he tried to analyze what it was.   
“You're thinkin' awfully hard,” Gibbs said after a while. “What's on your mind?”  
With the last dish put away, Tony glanced at Gibbs before passing by him to get to the fridge. “Tryin' to figure out why I'm frustrated,” he replied as he grabbed a beer, handing it to his boss before grabbing one for himself.   
Gibbs snorted as they walked out to the living room, “Got plenty of reason to be.”  
“I suppose,” he sighed as he sunk down onto the couch; Gibbs sitting down on the other side of it. “Just can't pinpoint what it is at this exact moment. And a big part of me really doesn't wanna go through the list.”   
Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment and took a swig from the bottle. “Gonna be kinda chilly out this evening,” he said after a while. “I think I've got a better idea than running, if you're up for it.”   
Tony looked over at him with narrowed eyes of curiosity.

11 00 11 00 11

“Boss, I can't do this,” Tony said as Gibbs pulled the car into the NCIS parking lot. “There's gonna be other agents in there, and I don't wanna be seen like this.”  
“Relax, DiNozzo,” Gibbs told him. “McGee and Ziva worked it out so we'll have the gym to ourselves. Besides,” he said as he pulled into a spot and turned off the engine, “You look a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”  
Tony looked over at him with a smirk, “You comin' on to me, Boss?”  
Gibbs let out a small, amused laugh, “You wish, Tony,” he said as he pushed open his door to get out.

*~.~*

Tony had never before been so grateful for drawstring, as he slipped on his gym shorts in the locker room. Gibbs had been right; the gym was empty when they'd arrived. And so far, there'd been no signs of his teammates, either.  
But speak of the devil... in walks McGee, just moments later. “Hey, Tony,” he said with a smile Tony wasn't really used to seeing much.  
For a moment, he wanted to make some kind of teasing comment, but something inside of him was suddenly happy about his presence. “Hey, Probie,” he replied as he tied his right gym-shoe where he'd propped his foot up on the bench. “Come to pulverize me in the ring?” he smirked. 'Right...so, no teasing the Probie, but it's okay to take shots at myself...?' he thought.  
Tim furrowed a brow, as expected, “N-no, nothing like... I just came to say hello, really; see how you're doing.”  
Tony put his foot on the floor and stood. “I'm fine,” he said with a grin. “Think I might need to go shopping; look at this,” he held his arms out and looked down at his attire. “I'm swimming in this stuff. This is ridiculous, ya know?” he looked back up at Tim. “I can't pull off this look as well as you can, McTwiggy.”  
Tim smiled and shook his head, a bit relieved to see Tony at least talking like himself again. “Not in those clothes,” he commented. “I'm pretty sure you've said, on more than one occasion, that 'the clothes make the man'. In fact, I'm fairly certain you live by that motto.”  
“And none of them fit now,” he argued. “I look like I'm playing dress-up in daddy's clothes.”  
“So, go shopping,” McGee let out a small laugh. “I know you like shopping, so don't try and deny it.”  
“If I shop for skinny-clothes, that'd be admitting defeat,” he retorted. “I don't plan on being this way for long.”  
“It'll be long enough for you to get some use out of something that fits,” he argued. “And if you don't get mustard or pizza sauce stains all over them, I might just buy the suits from you when they don't fit you anymore.” Tony gave him an inquisitive look. “What? We're the same height; same fit practically, right now. But I'm betting you could probably still kick my ass in the ring,” he smirked.  
Tony cocked his head, slightly amused, “Why don't you just lend me some of the suits you already have?”  
“Because,” he smiled, “You'd hate them, and you'd complain and be miserable the entire time you were wearing them. You hate my clothes, Tony. Don't deny it just to be nice. I know they're not your style. So, I'm not even leaving it open as an option.”  
The senior field agent looked at him with a bit of fondness at how well Tim seemed to know him. When did that happen? “Don't sell yourself short, Tim.”  
“What?”   
“About sparring,” he clarified. “I'm betting that, if your mutt could take me down so easily in the back yard, you could probably have a fair chance of taking the win in the ring right now.”  
“Gee, thanks,” he laughed. “Nice to know you have enough confidence in my fighting capabilities that I might be as good as Jethro in 'playful' mode.”  
“I didn't mean...” Tony fought with himself. He did partially mean it to tease him, but a part of him really didn't want to offend the man. What the hell is going on?   
McGee could see his internal struggle clearly on his face, which was new... Well, new for their Tony. “Hey, I know what you meant,” Tim told him. “If I can't take a joke on this team by now, I don't think I should still be here,” he smirked.  
Tony felt a twinge of guilt as he thought about his probie warming a seat in Cyber Crimes because he'd scared him off. No, really...What. The. Fuck?  
Desperate to change the subject that seemed to be throwing Tony for a loop, Tim asked, “You wanna catch a movie when you're done here? We still have the third Star Wars we never got to.”  
Tony met his eyes with feigned horror. “Why does that sound so...ridiculously exciting?” he asked in a higher-pitched voice.  
McGee grinned, “I'd like to think it's because you've always been a closeted nerd, and that's why you give me such a hard time.”  
Tony narrowed his eyes, “It takes more than movie preferences to make you a nerd, McGoo. I am not in the closet...”  
“You two done in here?” Gibbs asked as he entered the locker room. “I was hoping to actually use the gym while we were here... Unless, of course, you'd rather discuss your 'closet' issues in private?”  
“Uh...Boss, we...” McGee stuttered, embarrassingly.  
“We're done, Boss,” Tony finished for him, and started heading out of the locker room.  
McGee cleared his throat as he followed beside him, “So um...movie tonight?”  
“Oh, uh...yeah, sure, Tim.”  
“Move the stuff down to the living room,” Gibbs said. “We'll all watch it. Dad's still there, and the door's open.”  
“Okay, Boss,” McGee said and made his way toward the exit.  
“Don't drop my TV, McMover!”   
“Hey, I got it up there, didn't I?” he yelled back.  
“It's okay; I'm not worried. McGemcity can get me a new one if he drops it down the stairs,” Tony snuck in before McGee was out of sight. With a grin, he turned around to face Gibbs who was holding Tony's gloves. “Can't believe you wanna watch Star Wars with us, Boss.”  
Gibbs cocked his head as he slid on and secured the first glove over Tony's right hand. “Haven't seen it in years. Could be entertaining, I suppose.”  
“But ya didn't watch the first two, so it might seem a little confusing.”  
“I remember enough to know what's goin' on,” he quirked a brow as he secured the second glove and began putting on his own. “You ready?”  
“Guess there's only one way to find out,” he gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and they both climbed into the ring.   
“Ten minutes this round,” Gibbs said. “I don't want ya to overdo it.”  
“Ten minutes? C'mon, Boss! I can do more than that...”  
“We'll see after ten minutes, won't we?” he shot back and got into ready position.   
“Sounds like a challenge, to me,” Tony grinned and readied himself as well.   
After circling each other for a few moments, and some of Tony's typical bouncing around and antagonizing, which for some reason always amused Gibbs, Tony took the first swing and missed. “That all ya got, DiNozzo?”  
Tony laughed, “Just gettin' warmed up, Boss.”  
“While you're doin' that, why don't you tell me that list of things you said was frustrating you.”  
“Ah,” Tony smirked and ducked from Gibbs' swing. “I see what you're tryin' to do here. You want me to get pissed and take it out on you here in the ring.” He dodged another swing and then took one immediately afterward, which Gibbs managed to dodge as well.  
“Well,” he smirked, “You could try to take it out on me.”  
“Funny!” he jabbed right and hit Gibbs in the shoulder.  
“I think someone opened a door; just felt a breeze,” he antagonized.  
“Says the man who hasn't landed a single hit,” Tony retorted. Gibbs swung and hit Tony low in the side, but not very hard. “Touche. But you're goin' easy on me.”  
“Isn't really about me kickin' your ass,” he replied.  
“Right. 'Cause I can't take it right now. Nothin' much left to protect my bones and internal organs.”  
“You want me to send you back to the hospital, then by all means, let's go all out,” Gibbs said before taking a fairly strong swing. But Tony jumped back and came forward with a blow to Gibbs' gut. “Not bad, DiNozzo. But you keep jumpin' around like that, and you'll lose your wind fast.”  
“Jumpin' around also makes me a harder target,” he shot back and took another swing, hitting Gibbs in the jaw, causing him to grunt. Tony stopped, “You okay?” Gibbs took advantage of the non-moving target and returned the favor to the gut. Tony folded over a bit with a squeaky grunt, which soon turned to laughter, “Good one, Boss.”  
“Ya let your guard down.”  
“No shit,” he replied, taking another swing. “Let my guard down that day in the car, too,” he said as he dodged Gibbs' swing. “Had I really been paying attention,” he swung and hit Gibbs' side, “I would've seen him crawling out. Could've had time to pull my gun.”  
“You in the habit of checkin' your back seat every few minutes while you're drivin'?”  
“No. I'm not. But ya know what? I'm not in the habit of checking over my shoulder when I'm out running, either. But apparently,” he took another swing, “I need to start doing both. Ya know, make sure there's not some random perp I may or may not have gotten incarcerated at some point or another that happens to also be completely insane.”   
Gibbs was merely blocking punches now, letting Tony get everything out of his system as his words became more and more bitter with every swing.  
“Maybe I should just start taking them out, instead. It's not like this is the first time someone's tried to get back at me for some reason or another. Fuck if it won't be the last. What the hell is it about me, Gibbs? Huh? I mean, what the hell did I do to him?”  
“Wasn't your fault,” Gibbs replied, simply.  
Tony let out a small laugh before taking another swing, “That's what my nannies used to tell me.” Gibbs' gut clenched and he narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I just have the kinda face people wanna pound, huh? Granted, Cullen didn't do much to my face, in comparison with the rest of me... It does kinda feel like it gives great pleasure to some people...”  
“Tony...”  
“You wanted me to tell you what was frustrating me, didn't you?” he glared at him before taking another swing. “Almost my entire life, I've supposedly been protecting this little kid...this ten-year old I once was; makin' it so he wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. Then it turns out, really he's been protecting me!” he swung again. “Everything I thought I was just bottling up, he's been absorbing. And now we're both one person, Gibbs. And I have no godamn idea how to do any of this anymore,” his voice cracked with the last punch thrown and he dropped his hands and took a few cautious steps back. “I don't know how to do this...” the anger drained from his voice and was replaced with something akin to hopelessness.   
“Don't know how to do what, Tony?” Gibbs asked, taking a step forward.  
Tony met his eyes for a moment, then looked back down to the floor. “I don't know how to stop feeling...so much. Don't know how to hold things in like I've always done. I can't. I just can't...and it's killin' me, Boss,” he met his eyes again. Gibbs saw the wetness in them. “Look at me! I can't be like this! I can't start crying every time I get frustrated! Boss, what the fuck...what am I supposed to do?”  
Gibbs took another step forward, “You let it out. You let yourself get pissed off and you let it out.”  
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”  
Gibbs pushed him a bit roughly and Tony narrowed his eyes at him in question. He stepped up to him again and shoved Tony once more. “What the hell, Gibbs?”  
“What are you gonna do about it?”  
“You keep pushin' me and you'll find out,” Tony gritted his teeth. Gibbs pushed him again, without hesitation. Tony growled and pushed him back. Gibbs pulled back his right fist, readying for a swing, but Tony blocked it and landed one of his own.  
Gibbs could feel the powerful surge of strength behind Tony's rage. Any other man might have been afraid. But Gibbs stood his ground, blocking as best he could the punches that rained down on him.  
Tony didn't even see his boss anymore. Instead, he saw his father... He saw everyone who'd ever hurt him... He saw Cullen...   
After a while, he started to hear an enraged yelling; eventually figuring out that it was actually coming from himself. And then he felt himself tackled down to the ground. He clamped his eyes shut and struggled against the mass that was holding him pinned down.   
“Tony!” he heard from above him. He opened his eyes and saw Gibbs looking down at him with concern.  
“Get off me,” he grunted. “Let me up.”  
“Not if you're gonna hurt yourself,” he replied.  
“I'm...just let me up!”   
Gibbs looked at him for another moment before pushing himself up off of him, and pulling Tony up enough to sit. Tony moved his legs around under himself, with intentions of then pushing himself up to stand, but he came to the realization of just how out of breath he was; exhausted to the point that standing right now was probably out of the question. So he sat there on his knees...  
That's when he realized that he'd just pretty much wailed the crap out of his boss...and Gibbs had let him. He met his eyes, “I'm sorry...” he started, but felt himself begin to crumble; tears beginning to force their way out with shaking sobs that Tony had absolutely no control over.  
Before he could even register what was happening, he felt himself drawn into an embrace. If it weren't for the obvious reason that he was the only other person there, the smell of sawdust would've verified that it was Gibbs. As if he weren't embarrassed to shit as it was...  
“Damnit, Gibbs, I can't...stop this...”  
Gibbs held tighter to his friend, “You've been holdin' things in for most of your life, Tony. A slow leak now and then, but that doesn't make up for how much you swallow down. Now you gotta feel them full force, and it's gonna hurt like hell. But eventually, it won't anymore. Then ya just gotta work on day to day. But right now, Tony, I don't want you to feel ashamed. Ya got me? This doesn't make you weak.” He felt Tony's shaky intake of breath, but heard no response. “Did ya hear me, Tony?”  
“I hear you, Boss,” he said in barely a whisper.   
“You're gonna be okay,” Gibbs assured him; his still gloved hand patting the back of Tony's head. “I promise you...”


	27. Chapter 27

At about the halfway point of Return of the Jedi, Tony was asleep; his head precariously resting on McGee's shoulder. “I'm beginning to think he just kept these movies around as sleep-aids,” Tim whispered when Gibbs glanced over at them.   
Gibbs smirked and cocked his head, “He just had a pretty strenuous sparring session. I'm surprised he stayed awake as long as he did. Don't really have an explanation for my father, though,” he said, glancing toward the chair, where Jackson had fallen asleep as well.  
“Maybe we should stop it here; continue another night?” Tim asked.  
“Probably a good idea,” Gibbs said, standing from his place on the couch. “You crashin' here tonight?”  
“It's not really that late, Boss. I don't have a change of clothes with me anyway. But thanks for the offer.” He looked over as Tony suddenly yawned ridiculously big and shifted from Tim's shoulder and over to the arm of the couch, settling back into sleep without having even cracked an eyelid.   
Without a second of hesitancy, Tim pulled down the afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over the sleeping agent before standing. Gibbs gave him an approving look that McGee never even saw. “Guess I'll see you at the office in the morning,” Gibbs told him.  
McGee's head shot over to look at him, “You're coming in?”  
“Gotta meet with Vance,” he supplied. “You got any current cases?”  
“No, not really. Vance keeps sending them off to other teams and having us assist. But right now, Ziva and I are just working cold cases.”  
“You know you can call me if you need help, right?” he narrowed his eyes.  
“'Course, Boss,” he replied with a slightly furrowed brow. “But really, the cases that are being handed down haven't been very complicated. Guess I'm grateful; otherwise we wouldn't have had time to do what little we've been doing here,” he glanced at Tony's sleeping form.  
“Better knock on wood, McGee,” Gibbs smirked.   
Tim looked back at him with a smirk of his own, “Wouldn't do any good, really. Once I say it, I pretty much doom us all.”  
Gibbs smiled and let out a quiet laugh before patting the agent's shoulder, “I'll see you in the morning, Tim.”

11 00 11 00 11

“Dad, there's no point in makin' him breakfast just yet,” Gibbs said as he grabbed his keys from the counter in the kitchen. Jackson had been busy beating eggs in a bowl. “He won't be up for at least another hour.”  
“Don't be so sure, Leroy,” he smirked. “Whenever I wanted to get you up a bit earlier, I'd just whip up some of my famous omelets.”  
“They were only ever famous to us,” Gibbs returned the smirk.  
“They got you up! Soon as the smell hit your room.”  
Gibbs cocked his head as he thought. “That...might actually work on DiNozzo,” he let out a small laugh. “I won't be out long,” he informed him. “Unless somethin' comes up. In that case, I'd call an' let ya know.”  
Jackson gave his son an acknowledging nod, “I'll bring Tony with me to the store if you're not back in a couple hours. If he wants to come, that is.”  
Gibbs stood there for a moment; everything inside of him wanting to respond with, 'You can't leave him by himself. You need to stay here with him or take him with you!' But Tony was a grown man. The childlike persona they'd been caring for before yesterday, was no longer the sole possessor of his mind. He could take care of himself, even if Gibbs felt like maybe he wasn't quite ready to let go.  
“Alright,” he settled for, and turned to walk out.

*~.~*

“Agent Gibbs,” Vance greeted as the lead agent walked into his office. “Thanks for coming to see me. McGee gave me a brief update on DiNozzo's progress yesterday evening. Glad to hear he's coming back around to himself.”  
“McGee gave you an update?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes in question as he approached the desk and took a seat.  
“I asked him about it when he got in. I know you think I've got it out for your senior field agent, but...and don't tell him this...the kid's kinda grown on me.”  
“He's not a kid, Leon.”  
“So I've heard, Jethro. So I've heard,” he leaned back in his chair. “How's his physical progress? Is he asking about returning to work yet?”  
“He knows he's got a ways to go,” Gibbs replied. “He's workin' on it. He'll know when he's ready.”  
“I'd be more comfortable with you being the judge of that.”  
“Really,” Gibbs quirked a brow.  
“He does have a reputation for comin' back in before he should, Gibbs. I'm fairly sure I've overheard talk of a pool going. Someone bet on three days from today,” he smirked.  
Gibbs couldn't help a small laugh. “Couldn't have been anyone on my team.”  
“No. In fact, I'm pretty certain McGee almost slugged another agent this morning for placing a bet.” To that, Gibbs raised both brows in surprise. “I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been standing out on the landing and seen it with my own eyes. Not sure what was said, exactly, but Agent David was quick to stop him from doing anything to get himself into trouble. But I'm pretty sure it was only because she knew I was watching,” he smirked again.  
Gibbs simply smiled. “Tony will know when he's ready,” he repeated. “And I'll keep him on desk duty until I know for sure, if he doesn't do that himself.”  
“There a reason to think it'd be any different this time?”  
“Yeah, there is,” he informed. “This is different, Leon. Ducky told you what happened; you read the report. This is definitely different. Tony has the determination to return, but he knows it's gonna be harder this time. He knows as well as we do, if not better, that he'll need help.”

11 00 11 00 11

“McGee!” Ziva said as she hurried into the bullpen, looking a bit annoyed and anxious as she dropped her bag at her desk and walked to stand in front of his.  
“Morning, Ziva-”  
“I have been stopped by three people this morning,” she told him. “Each of them telling me that they saw Gibbs coming into the parking lot. Is that true?”  
McGee furrowed a brow for a moment, “Are you asking me if I believe what you're telling me?”  
“Is Gibbs at work today, McGee?!”  
“I think he's upstairs talking to Vance...” he supplied. “What's up with you?” he asked, slightly concerned.  
“Nothing,” she gave him an incredulous look and wandered to her desk. He watched her as she calmly sat down in her chair and feigned typing into her computer. Another few moments, and she was pushing to stand again. “I am going down to see Abby,” she said and hurried out, opting for the stairwell.  
McGee furrowed a brow in confusion before continuing what he was doing on his computer.   
It wasn't a couple of minutes later when Gibbs came down from Vance's office. He strolled into the bullpen toward his own desk and opened his top drawer before looking over at his agent. “Mornin', McGee.”  
“Morning, Boss. Everything go okay with the director?”  
“Not bad,” he replied, vaguely, as he pulled out a few items and stuck them into his pocket before closing the drawer. “Where's Ziva?”  
“I...think she said she was going down to see Abby,” he replied. “She seemed a bit...anxious about something; though I couldn't really tell ya why.”  
Gibbs raised his brows, thoughtfully, and nodded in acknowledgment before turning to leave the bullpen and head toward the lab, himself.   
When the elevator opened to the correct floor, and the doors opened, his ears were flooded with Abby's music. It was immediate realization that Ziva had not entered the lab... His gut told him to enter the stairwell.  
And there she was, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard him enter. She was pacing the small square of floor in between flights, one flight up.   
“Ziva?” he questioned as he slowly ascended to her level.   
She met his eyes and froze in place for a moment. Then slipped on her mask before opening her mouth. “Gibbs. I did not realize you would be in today.”  
“What are you doin' in here?” he asked, ignoring her deflection.   
“I was on my way to see Abby,” she told him. His glare told her that he was waiting for the rest. “I stopped to think.”  
“About what?” he cocked his head.  
“What does it matter?” she asked, meeting his eyes.  
Gibbs remained silent for a few moments, not looking away from the agent, as if one of them would eventually back down. But Gibbs knew her better than that. “You haven't been to see Tony,” he decidedly said.  
She flinched at that, and he knew it was the right thing to have said. Clearly, this had been what was weighing on her mind. “I...was unsure whether or not he was ready for visitors,” he said, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. Lie.  
“What's wrong, Ziva?” he asked. “What's goin' on with you?”  
“I am not sure I understand what you mean.”  
“You know what I mean. You afraid? Is that it?”  
She furrowed her brow, “Why would I be afraid?”  
“You tell me. Of everyone, you've been to see him the least. I could partially understand why when he wasn't himself. But now? This is what you wanted; what we all wanted. We've got him back and you're acting like it's not going to last.”  
“I...” she could no longer meet his eyes, but they darted around somewhere on his chest.  
“Or is it...that you weren't quite as ready as you thought, to let go of the little boy he was for a while?” Her eyes shot to his in a bit of shock. “He's still there, ya know,” he told her. “And it's hard for him to function like he's used to, now. He could use his friends around him; even if he doesn't admit to it.”  
Ziva's eyes skittered around somewhere in the air between them. She was slightly embarrassed that he'd hit the nail on the head. Moreso, perhaps, that she hadn't even really realized these things in the first place.   
After a few silent moments, she felt his hand on her shoulder as he came closer, laying a kiss on her forehead. “Come see him tonight, Ziver,” he told her, then turned to leave her there in her thoughts.


	28. Chapter 28

“Tony still sleepin'?” Gibbs asked as he entered the living room where his father sat with his coffee, watching the news at such a low volume, he was almost certain it was there simply for background noise.  
“Nah. He got up shortly after you left; had a small breakfast and went for a run,” he told him, glancing down at his watch. “Left about an hour ago. He said he'd be back in an hour.”  
“He's not back,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, looking out the window into the street, hoping to see him coming around the corner.  
“Well, he brought his phone,” Jackson replied. “Said you'd be pissed if he didn't. You an' your rules, Leroy,” he smirked and let out a small laugh.   
“There for a reason, Dad,” he replied, pulling out his own phone and dialing Tony's number. As it rang, he made his way to the door, trying not to seem too worried.  
“Hey, Boss,” Tony's voice sounded on the other line, out of breath.  
Gibbs felt a bit of relief, “Jack said you told him you'd be back in an hour, Dinozzo. Everything okay?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, Boss, everything's okay. Just uh...” he stopped for a moment to breathe.   
“Spit it out, Tony,” Gibbs insisted.  
“I'm just gonna be a bit gettin' home. I overestimated how far I could go. Takin' a breather before I head back.”  
“If you'd have waited until I got back, I would've gone with ya.”  
“Baby bird's gotta leave the nest sometime,” he quipped.  
“That metaphor has no place here, DiNozzo. Don't start,” he said, light-heartedly.  
“Yeah, I guess not. I might need Papa-bird to come pick me up, actually. I've been sittin' here for long enough to contemplate jumpin' this rail into the Potomac.”  
Even though it was said in a sarcastic manner, it still made Gibbs flinch. “I'll come get you. Just sit tight. An' if I gotta drag your ass outta the water, you'll have a lot more to worry about than molting.” After a small chuckle from the other line, Gibbs ended the call.   
“He okay?” Jackson turned in his chair.  
“Took on more than he could handle, but he's fine. I'm gonna go get him.”  
“I'm sorry, Leroy. I didn't think-”  
“It's okay, Dad,” he put a hand on his shoulder. “He wasn't sure of his limitations, and that's not your fault.” His cell rang at that moment, and he fished it out of his pocket to answer. “Yeah. Gibbs.”  
“You watchin' the news, Jethro?” Fornell's voice sounded on the other line.  
“It's on; wasn't watchin', though,” he replied, glancing up at the screen.  
“Well, start watchin'.”  
“Turn it up, Dad,” Gibbs said.   
The footage was from a chopper in the air, of a turned-over prisoner transport van. “Don't tell me this was Cullen's ride...” Gibbs said into the phone.  
“Afraid so,” Fornell replied. “We lost contact with the guard and driver about six thirty this morning. Somehow, Cullen must've been able to grab a gun off the guard. Everyone in that transport is dead. And Cullen as awol.”  
“He's been on the run for two hours,” Gibbs surmised. “You've got no leads?”  
“We've got every available man out there lookin', Jethro. I'd appreciate your help on this one.”  
“Call Vance; tell him to send you Ziva and McGee, and whoever else he can spare. I've gotta go, Tobias. I'll call you back,” he ended the call, grabbed his gun and headed for the door.  
“Cullen's the brother of the guy who took Tony, right?” Jackson asked, now standing.  
“Yeah. I've gotta get to Tony, Dad.”  
“Be careful, son...”

11 00 11 00 11

Now sprawled out where he sat on the bench, Tony gazed up at the clear blue sky, satisfied that his breath had finally returned. But the lingering feeling that he hadn't been able to return home on his own had him pitying himself; something he really didn't want to do right now.   
He felt weak; tired. He could probably fall asleep if he allowed himself to lie down on the bench. In fact, it seemed rather inviting to do so. But he didn't want Gibbs to find him that way. Chances were, he'd end up having to be escorted around every time he went for a run, if that happened. Not that it wasn't an unlikely outcome of his inability to return home, as it was.   
Tony shifted and sat up. The movement, for whatever reason, initiated a cramp in his thigh and he yelped and grabbed onto it with both hands. “Shitshitshit...” he mumbled, looking up to see an elderly couple walking past him, just as they looked over at him. He pasted on a grin and waved, “Hi.” A sort of apology for his language, but also to let them know that he was okay, as they seemed to look concerned.   
He waited for them to be far enough away to begin cussing again as he rubbed the cramping muscle.   
“What a strange and beautiful twist of fate to cross paths with you here, Anthony,” a masculine voice sounded beside him.   
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He knew that voice. But...that wasn't possible.  
He looked over and up at the man, flinching when he met the familiar eyes. “Y- you're dead,” he said in barely a whisper. “Gibbs said you're dead. You can't be here...”  
Cullen's lips slowly curled up on each side...


	29. Chapter 29

Tony was frozen with a level of fear that he couldn't even comprehend. Sure, he'd been scared before; terrified even. But being frozen with it? This, he hadn't really experienced for more than a few moments at a time.   
Yet here he was, staring into the face of the man that almost killed him; tortured him ruthlessly for over a month and left him there to die.   
The old Tony DiNozzo would have already put a bullet in between Cullen's eyes...maybe. He would've at least tackled the guy to the ground and beat the ever-living hell out of him until Gibbs could pull him off of him.   
But Tony didn't have his gun. Had that fact been different, he wasn't sure that he would've been able to pick it up and do anything, anyway. Because, with all of everything in him, he wanted to lunge at him right now; get himself out of danger, if nothing else. But he couldn't move from where he sat on that bench, looking up at him.  
“I wish we had more time for pleasantries,” Cullen said, “But I'm in a bit of a hurry. I need you to come with me.”  
“No,” Tony was surprised when his voice actually worked.  
“Don't be stubborn now, Anthony,” he said, smiling, then showing him the weapon he held beneath his coat. “It would be a shame for all these innocent people to get hurt,” he motioned around them to passersby, “All because you couldn't take a short walk with me.”  
Tony's eyes darted around them. Why the bridge had to be so damn crowded today...right now, he didn't know. And as if some higher power had it out for him, shoving it in his face, a line of young children being led by their teachers came strolling up the block.  
“Okay, fine...” Tony grumbled and pushed himself up to stand, wincing at the still-protesting muscle in his leg.   
“I'm glad we're on the same page now,” Cullen said. Tony chose to bite his tongue as Cullen pushed him along ahead of him. “I knew you'd sacrifice yourself to save those people. Of course, I was surprised to see you alive at all. I thought I'd left you for dead,” he let out a small laugh. “Not my usual style, mind you. But when my brother realized what I'd been doing and threatened to turn me over to the police, I had to eliminate him. Of course... I hadn't really planned for that. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking in the right places. If I left you alone from his time of death, my story would corroborate itself.”  
No wonder Gibbs thought I was safe, Tony thought. “You made them think it was him that did this to me,” he said aloud. “So what's the plan now? You gonna kill me?”  
“Not yet,” he told him as they passed into a wooded area and came into view of a sedan, which was obvious to Tony, now, that the man had stolen. “Stop,” he instructed, “Put these on, behind your back,” he handed him a pair of cuffs that he'd obviously taken off of himself after escaping the transport and grabbing keys off of the dead guard.  
Tony hesitated as he was handed the cuffs. Cullen wasn't close enough for him to make a move to try and take the gun. Had Cullen been the one to try and put the cuffs on him, he could've taken that opportunity. But apparently, he'd thought of that.  
“What are you waiting for?” Cullen snapped, impatiently.  
“What are you gonna do with me?” he asked, silently cursing himself for sounding so terrified.  
“Put. On. The. Cuffs,” he repeated. Tony put his hands behind his back and secured the bracelets around his wrists. “Turn around.” Tony complied and winced as Cullen tightened them a bit. “Alright, now...move over there for a moment,” he instructed, nudging to the side with his head. Then he opened the trunk of the car. “Get in,” he demanded.  
Tony could feel his body begin to shake, even though he willed it not to. “Where are you taking me?” he asked.  
“Get. In. The. Trunk,” he said; voice steady but demanding, reminding Tony of his time in the bad place.  
That's when a frightening thought shot through him. “Y-you're not gonna....take me back there...are you?”  
Cullen cocked his head, “If you won't listen to me, I'll put you in there myself. And I can promise you that it won't be in a pleasant position. But if you make me have to do that, when I'm finished with you, I'll be sure to come back here and take care of all your little friends that worked so very hard to find you,” he said, then smiled wickedly.  
“Don't you touch them,” Tony said through gritted teeth.   
“Then get into the damned trunk, Anthony,” he repeated. “I won't ask again.”  
Tony had been waiting for some kind of freak adrenaline rush; something that could help him to overpower Cullen. But the truth was, standing there now seemed like a monumental effort, in itself.   
He was helpless...

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs hurried toward his car; his gut screaming at him as he went. He'd need to pick up Tony and head to the office. If nothing else, Tony could sit with Abby. But he didn't have time to bring him back to the house.  
As he got into the driver seat and started the car, his cell rang. He fished it out to answer as he pulled out of the driveway. “Gibbs.”  
“Boss, I found something you're gonna wanna see,” McGee's voice sounded from the other line.  
“Not the best time, McGee. Cullen escaped the transport this morning. We're gonna have to work that.”  
“I know. I just got off the phone with Fornell. Thing is... Boss, Abby got the original DNA reports from Peoria...”  
“Spit it out, Tim,” he said, impatiently.  
“Shaun Cullen is in our morgue, Boss,” he reported. Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “It was Michael Cullen we brought in. Michael Cullen was on that transport...”  
The indeterminable screaming in his gut became clearer and louder, and sank. He ended the call and glanced at the phone, away from the road he was tearing down, for a split second to dial Tony's number...

11 00 11 00 11

Tony had been trying not to completely freak out since the trunk closed and the engine started in the car. He closed his eyes and hoped that Gibbs' insane driving would come in handy, yet again; maybe intercepting Cullen before they could get far.   
He suddenly felt a vibrating in his pocket. It took a moment, but he realized what it was and began to scramble against the cuffs. He pulled his knees up to his chest and slid his hands underneath his body, sliding his legs back through the loop created by his arms, until his hands were now cuffed in front of him, then fished the phone from his pocket.   
Gibbs...  
“Boss,” he whispered; partially for the sake of not alerting Cullen.  
“Tony, I'm less than a minute away. You stay put, ya hear me?”  
“I'm sorry, Boss, but it's a little late for that,” he replied. “Gibbs...he's got me. He's got me in the trunk of a dark blue sedan. He was parked in the wooded area beside the bridge, facing north.”  
“DiNozzo...” Gibbs' voice was filled with enough regret, that Tony could hear it. “I'm gonna find you. You hear me? I'm gonna find you, so don't you dare give up...”  
Tony realized then, that he'd been panicking, and it showed in the way he breathed against the phone. He couldn't bring himself to respond.  
“I'm gonna call McGee right now, Tony. I'm gonna have him trace your phone. You keep it with you as long as you can, okay? I'm coming for you. Tony, do ya hear me?”  
“H-hear you, Gibbs...”  
“Good. I'm gonna call McGee now. You sit tight.”  
“'Kay. Boss?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I don't...I don't wanna go back there...” his breath hitched with his words.  
There was a brief pause on the other line. “We're gonna find you, Tony. He slipped up this time. You've still got your phone. We're gonna find you. I've gotta make that call, DiNozzo. I'll be in touch... You just hold on...”  
The car came to a sudden stop and Tony nearly dropped the phone. Before he knew what was happening, the trunk was hoisted open and Cullen was tearing it from his grasp. He saw Cullen's fist come at him, fast, and hit him hard in the temple. He closed his eyes against the blinding pain and tried to contain himself; tried to slow his heart rate with sheer will.   
By the time his eyes opened again, the trunk was closed again and they were on the move once more. The darkness brought an all-too-familiar memory back to him...  
Alone in the darkness...bound and too weak to escape. No way for them to find him. Once again at the mercy of a madman.   
He couldn't do this again...couldn't go back there...

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs found the wooded area Tony had told him about and he parked and got out, scanned the area as he held the phone at his ear, awaiting McGee's findings. “Come on, McGee! Do ya have 'im?”  
“I've got it, Boss. He's...not moving. Less than a mile north of where you are.”  
“You call me if he moves. I've got Fornell's team on their way to back me up, so stay put; I need you there,” he told him before ending the call and getting back into the car.   
He sped to the location McGee had given him, and pulled the car over, confused by the lack of any other vehicles nearby. Gibbs got out and dialed Tony's number. At first, he heard nothing; but then again, he'd been expecting Tony to pick up. But before long, he heard a buzzing sound somewhere beneath him amongst the fallen leaves.   
Gibbs crouched down and shuffled through them, and soon discovered Tony's cell. “Damn it!” he growled as he picked it up. No no no no...no, I can't lose him again. Just got him back. Sonofabitch!  
He redialed McGee, who thankfully picked up on the first ring. “Phone was tossed,” he told him as calmly as he was able. “I need you to go down to Abby; look at the Potomac street cams. Tony said he was put into a dark blue sedan. See if you can find it on the footage. I need a plate...I need a damn BOLO. I need a chopper in the air, if I can get one!”  
“Boss, Agent Fornell said he's got a road check set up,” McGee said in a reassuring voice. “The direction he took, there's only one way out of there. When he hits them, they'll be ready to take him.”  
Gibbs' free hand snaked to, and gripped, the hair at the top of his head as he stood in place, slowly spinning in a circle as he scanned as far as he could see; really, simply panicking. He couldn't even register McGee's voice anymore, though the phone was still held to his ear. The thoughts running through his head overpowered the agent's voice.  
I lost him... I promised him I'd find him, and I've already lost him... He felt something break inside of him, and he clamped his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold himself together. He couldn't do this now; couldn't allow himself to break yet. He needed to keep it together...for Tony.  
“Boss? Boss, are you there?”  
Gibbs was suddenly aware of his agent calling for him on the other line. “Yeah, McGee,” he replied quietly.  
“I was trying to tell you, Ziva's on her way to you, right now. I couldn't really stop her.”  
“How does she even know where I am?” Gibbs asked.  
“Uh...well, I'm with Abby right now, Boss. But I'd tracked your cell as well when I was tracking Tony's. Ziva left before I came down here.”  
“Bossman!” Abby stole the phone from McGee. “I found the car! And I see Cullen and Tony... he put him in the trunk; headed North out of view of the cam, but I've got a plate!”  
“Put out the BOLO, Abs,” Gibbs ordered. “And good work.”  
“Bring him home, Gibbs,” she told him.  
“I intend to,” he replied and ended the call as he walked back to his car.  
“Gibbs,” Ziva was standing beside the vehicle. “I am going with you.”  
“Get in,” he replied, wanting to waste no time. She complied and ran to the passenger side, slipping in in time with Gibbs. “Abby found the plates. Fornell's got teams set up to intercept. We've got the in between.”  
“Do you need me to drive?” she asked in a calm voice. He gave her a questioning glance. “You were standing there for several minutes, Gibbs; not responding as McGee spoke to you. As long as it took me to get here, I imagine it was probably a bit longer than that, even.”  
Gibbs looked at the steering wheel and shook his head, unwilling to accept that fact.  
“I understand,” she said, before he could think too much about it. He looked back over at her. “What you must be feeling; I understand. You believe you have failed him; that this is somehow your fault...”  
“I never verified that Cullen wasn't his captor,” he retorted. “Didn't want to put Tony through that. I assumed; took the word of that psycho sonofabitch...”  
“We,” she clarified. “We took his word. And we never thought to verify. But we also did not believe Cullen would ever escape. He is criminally insane, yes. But we did not believe he was capable of overpowering the people on that transport.”  
“If we'd have confirmed that he was the killer, he'd have had much heavier security,” Gibbs retorted, a bit angrily. “And now he's got DiNozzo. We've got nothing to go on if he slips us, and switches vehicles. It's happening all over again...”  
The lost look in Gibbs' eyes terrified and infuriated her. She could feel herself burning with the combination. Ziva threw open the passenger door and went around to his side, opening the door. “Get out,” she demanded. He met her eyes, glaring with narrowed ones. “Let me drive, Gibbs. You are not in a place to do so.”   
Gibbs stood, but only to meet her gaze. She was angry; but now, so was he. “I'm not in a place to do so, Agent David?”  
“You have not even put the key in the ignition,” she furrowed her brow. “We have a job to do! And we do not have time for self-pity and regrets...” her voice cracked with the last word and there was an almost imperceptible tremble in her jaw. But Gibbs saw it, and he saw the tremor that ran through her body afterward.  
His heart softened, leaving behind the anger he'd had toward her just a moment ago. Of course Ziva had regrets. Of course she felt the sting; having avoided seeing Tony, and now perhaps never seeing him alive again...  
“Get back in the car, Ziver,” he told her, gently, bringing a hand up briefly cup her cheek; reassuring her that he understood. “Let's go find Tony...”

11 00 11 00 11

Tony suddenly jolted awake, not having previously been aware that he'd fallen asleep. It was still dark, but he didn't feel like he was moving anymore. It was quiet; deadly quiet...silence that was deafening and terrifying all at once.  
He took a shaky breath through his nose and was thrown immediately into a state of panic...  
The smell; musty, stale...familiar. He felt the bindings on his wrists. Tony was back in that room...  
Out of desperation, he screamed out, “Help! Help me! Somebody, please!” And he fell immediately into a fit of sobs, because he knew no one could here him from that room. It was hopeless... “Gibbs...please...”


	30. Chapter 30

Jeremy sat quietly on the stool beside the little television behind the counter, playing on his hand-held gaming system as his father ran the register. The little gas station/convenient store wasn't very busy at all today and they were both rather bored.  
The bell over the door sounded and they both looked up. “Hey, Eddy!” the customer shouted.   
“Hey, Jim. Usual?” Eddy asked.  
“Yep,” he replied and Eddy pulled a two packs of cigarettes from the overhead and laid them on the counter. “No school today?” he asked Jeremy as he handed over a ten-dollar bill.  
“Parent-teacher conference day,” he replied. “Mom's going,” he clarified.  
“Here ya go,” Eddy handed him his change. “Have a good one.”  
“You too, Ed; Jeremy. See ya tomorrow,” he waved and headed out.   
Just moments later, the bell went off again. “Forget somethin', Jim?” Eddy asked before looking up to realize it wasn't him. “Oh, I'm sorry. Thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”  
“Need to buy a gas can,” the man said.  
“They're five dollars. An even ten to fill it up with regular,” he told him. The man nodded and handed him the money, took the can and went out to the pumps.  
“Hey, Dad?” Jeremy pulled at his father's shirt. “Isn't that the guy that was on the news?”  
“What?” Eddy narrowed his eyes and glanced out at the pumps then back to the television where the newscast was showing the escaped convict. “Holy hell...” he muttered. “You go on back into the office now,” he told him. “I'm gonna call this in. Don't you let anyone in there but me, got it? Lock it up. And be quiet.” Jeremy nodded, calmly walking into the office door and closing it behind him as his father inconspicuously picked up the phone to dial the number on the screen.  
“Crime-watch hotline,” a female voice sounded on the other line.  
“Ma'am, I need to speak with an Agent Fornell about the Cullen escapee. I've got a sighting, right now.”  
“Stay on the line, sir. I'll have him for you in a moment.”

11 00 11 00 11

“We've got men over there, Jethro,” Fornell said into his phone. “If he shows up anywhere near that house of the hanger, we'll have him.” His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen before bringing it back to his ear again, “I've got crime-watch callin' through. Gotta take this. Just hold on a minute.” He switched over. “Fornell.”  
“Agent Fornell, this is crime-watch. I have a caller for you,” the female voice introduced before switching the call over for him.  
“Agent Fornell?” a man's voice sounded.  
“This is he.”  
“Sir, I've got the man you're looking for, Cullen, pumping gas outside our store.”  
“You sure it's him?”  
“Pretty damn sure, sir.”  
“What's he drivin'?”  
“Nothing, sir. He walked here asking for a gas can. He's...he's just finishing now, sir, and he's already paid. He's walking south on Lassiter Avenue. I'm uh...I'm calling from Tess Mart on Lassiter.”  
“I know where that's at. Give the crime-watch lady your number, kid. Might need to call you again. Thanks,” he ended the call and swapped back over to Gibbs. “Tess Mart, Jethro,” he called into the phone as he got into his car. “Someone spotted Cullen pumping gas into a can and walking south on Lassiter. If he's on foot right now, we might be able to catch him before he makes it back to the car...”

11 00 11 00 11

“Hang on,” Gibbs gave Ziva a warning before spinning the car wildly to make a U-turn. She held tight to the door handle and secured her other hand on the dash, but was otherwise unphased by the driving method. “We're maybe a few blocks from Lassiter,” he explained to her. “Cullen was spotted; walkin' with a gas can,” he scanned the sides of the road as she did.  
“There he is!” she shouted, pointing out to their right in the distance. Gibbs saw him walking partly in the wooded area beside the road, and sped up before screeching to a halt in front of him. They both scrambled out of the car with guns drawn.  
“NCIS! Freeze, Michael!” Gibbs yelled as they approached him.   
Cullen did freeze for a moment; slightly shocked at being discovered. But when he saw Gibbs, his mouth curled up on each side as he slowly rose his arms. Then, he let go of the gas can and took off, running.  
Ziva wasted no time. She aimed and hit his shoulder with one round, and he dropped like a leaf, with a yelp. The agents approached Cullen as he frantically reached for the gun that was tucked into the back of his pants. But Gibbs got to him first, and took it from him.   
He handed it to Ziva, the violently flipped Cullen onto his back and shoved his Sig against the man's chin, “Where's DiNozzo?”  
Cullen simply looked at him for a long moment. Then he smiled, and began to laugh heartily. “I'm not going to tell you.”  
“Oh, you'll tell me,” Gibbs said through gritted teeth. “Because if ya don't, I'll make what you did to Tony seem like a walk in the park.”  
“And how will you manage that,” Cullen said with the annoying grin still parked on his smug face. With his free hand, Gibbs squeezed Cullen's shoulder, digging his thumb into the bullet-wound Ziva had created. Cullen screamed out. “Stop! Stop it!”  
“Tell me where he is!” Gibbs shouted.  
“Never,” Cullen ground out in anger against the pain.  
“I will put another bullet in your other shoulder,” Ziva spat, pressing the gun to her threatened target.  
“Do what you want,” he laughed. “But he was the last piece to this puzzle. There's nothing you can do. You're too late.”  
Gibbs flinched at that. “What the hell does that mean?” he asked, pressing the gun more roughly against his face.  
Cullen simply continued his insane laughter, “You'll never know, Gibbs...”  
Gibbs squeezed harder against the bullet-wound and hit him across the face with his gun, causing Cullen's laughter to turn into a prolonged scream. “You tell me, you sonofabitch!” Gibbs yelled, hitting him again.  
“Agent Gibbs!” Fornell and one of his agents approached quickly, grabbing at Gibbs to pull him away. “You gotta stop! Jethro, you've gotta stop,” he told him as he pulled him up to stand.   
Gibbs didn't take his eyes from Cullen until Ziva was standing over him with her gun aimed at his head. “I should've waited; shoulda followed him,” Gibbs said as he turned to look at Fornell. “If I'd waited for him to lead us to DiNozzo...”  
“He walked to a gas station, Jethro,” Fornell reminded him. “Means the idiot ran outta gas. We've already got a BOLO out on the car; it's just a matter of time before someone sees it and calls it in.”  
“You'll never find it,” Cullen laughed. “And by the time you do, it'll already be too late.”  
“I don't wanna hear another word outta you unless it's the whereabouts of Agent DiNozzo,” Fornell spat at the downed culprit.   
“I can make him talk, Gibbs,” Ziva offered, not taking her eyes off of Cullen.  
Gibbs glared at Fornell until Fornell began to consider what Ziva had said. “Not out here, ya can't. I've got a van on its way. When it gets here, I think Agent David and Michael, here, can have a little alone time.”  
Gibbs took a breath, silently thanking the man. Then he pulled out his phone and talked as he dialed. “I'm gonna keep looking until she gets somethin' outta him,” he told him before putting the phone to his ear.  
“McGee.”  
“We've got Cullen,” he told him. “But we don't have Tony. I need as many eyes as I can get down here, Tim. We need to keep looking.”  
“On my way, Boss,” the call ended, but Gibbs couldn't be sure whether he'd heard any amount of relief in the agent's voice at their findings.  
“That station was the only one in a five-mile radius, Jethro,” Fornell informed him. “He was headed south, so I'll have my team start on the outer-skirts of that radius.” Gibbs nodded and started heading off in the direction Cullen had been walking. “You should wait til someone can go with you,” Tobias suggested. But Gibbs kept going, and Fornell sighed, knowing it was pointless to talk him into doing anything else right then...

11 00 11 00 11

“Please no...no more...” Cullen breathed heavily in the chair he was bound to in the back of the FBI van, as Ziva circled around him. Though there were no visible marks on him, he was in a great deal of pain, and sweat dripped from his brow as he tracked her movements.  
“You will tell me what I want to know?” Ziva asked.  
“A-anything just...just please stop...”  
“Tell me where Tony is,” she brought her face close enough to his for him to see the fire in her eyes.  
“H-he's still...in the trunk,” he told her.  
“Where is the car, Michael?” she asked, impatiently.  
“I-it's parked...parked in a storage unit,” he told her. “I...I swallowed the key after you sh-shot me.”  
“What storage facility?”   
“A p-place called M-Mickey's.”  
“Tell me why I should not gut you like fish, to retrieve the key, Michael,” she said, fisting his shirt in her hand.  
“Go ahead,” he sneered, then the corners of his mouth turned up as if he'd suddenly no longer been affected by the torture he'd just received; as if it had all been a show to buy time... “It's been nearly an hour that he's been in there. The unit is airtight and he's enclosed in the trunk of the car inside of it. By the time you retrieve the key and get down there, it will be too late,” he began to laugh in the last statement, and Ziva backhanded him and turned to pull out her cell...

*~.~*

McGee held onto the door handle as inconspicuously as possible as Gibbs took the next turn into a wooded area. They'd been doing this for nearly 45 minutes; driving through open clearings and stopping at possible hidden areas, getting out of the car and taking them by foot.  
Tim's cell rang as Gibbs put the car in park. “This is McGee,” he answered. Listening to the voice on the other line, he grabbed Gibbs' jacket sleeve before he could get out the door. Gibbs turned to look at him, questioningly. “Yeah, I'm with him...Yes, I'm pretty sure we passed it just a few blocks back...hang on,” he pulled the phone away for a moment and looked at his boss. “Mickey's storage, Boss.”  
“DiNozzo?”  
“That's what Cullen told Ziva. Unit number 84,” he told him, and put the phone back to his ear as Ziva began talking again. “Yeah, I've got bolt-cutters in the trunk. Shouldn't be a problem,” he told her as Gibbs peeled out of their previously parked position and back onto the road before throwing it into drive and taking off with screeching tires. “Got it, Ziva. I'll call you once we have him,” he ended the call and turned to look at Gibbs. “She says it's an airtight unit,” he told him. “That he's been in there for an hour and Cullen seemed pretty smug about the fact that...we could be...”  
“We're not too late, McGee,” Gibbs grounded out as he whipped the car into the parking lot of the storage facility. Once he had the car in park and turned off, they both were hurriedly getting out of the car; McGee going straight to the trunk to retrieve the bolt-cutters as Gibbs began his trek toward the units. “12,” he called out and went to the next row. “22... goin' up in this direction,” he said as McGee caught up with him, and they took off, running, up six more rows until they approached the 80's.   
“Here it is, Boss!” McGee said as he lined the cutters up against the lock and quickly and efficiently cut through it. He ripped the lock from its securing and tossed the cutters to the ground and he and Gibbs worked together to open the garage-like door.   
There inside was the blue sedan. They stood there for a moment, almost in disbelief that they'd finally found it. “Call an ambulance, McGee,” Gibbs ordered as he went for the driver door in search for the trunk release.   
McGee dialed his phone and placed it at his ear without looking away from the trunk. Really, he was listening; trying to hear some kind of movement. Surely Tony would have heard the loud opening of the unit door... “This is Agent Timothy McGee with NCIS; we need an ambulance at Mickey's Storage on South Lassiter Avenue; we have an agent down,” he spat out the information in a robotic fashion as he watched the trunk pop open minutely.  
Gibbs ran back to open it all the way and looked at the bloodied face of his agent in the trunk. Tony's tired eyes fixed forward at the inside of the trunk facing Gibbs. His breathing was shallow, but other than that, he wasn't moving. “Tony?” Gibbs reached down and gripped his arm, but received no response. He placed two fingers at his neck to check his pulse, which also seemed a bit weak, but fast.   
“Is he hurt?” McGee asked from where he stood; almost too afraid to approach the trunk.  
“Looks like he got clocked pretty good in the head,” he told him. “Think he's unconscious, but his eyes are open...”  
“But he's breathing...” McGee begged for confirmation.  
“Yeah, he's alive, McGee.”  
Tim approached, then, and looked down at his friend just as Tony blinked slowly. “Uh, Boss?” McGee said. “I don't think he's unconscious...”  
Gibbs hadn't missed it either, and he narrowed his eyes in concern. “There's a cuff key in the dash,” he told McGee. When Tim registered what he was saying, he scrambled to the front of the car to retrieve it. Gibbs bent down into the trunk, closer to his agent, “Tony, you with me?” For a moment, there was no response from him. Then he blinked slowly again, but Gibbs couldn't determine whether or not it was a reaction or an involuntary movement.  
Tim returned with the key and immediately began the process of removing the cuffs from Tony's wrists. Gibbs helped to gently pull them off of him and handed them to McGee, who stuck them into an evidence bag he had in his pocket. Once shoving them back into his pocket, he assisted Gibbs in lifting Tony out of the trunk, though he wasn't entirely sure what he'd planned on doing with him once he was out.   
“Let's bring him outta the dark,” Gibbs told him, and Tim suddenly understood. They side stepped out of the unit and over to the siding wall, and proceeded to sit Tony down on the concrete; back against the wall, as they sat down on either side of him to hold him up.  
Both agents studied their friend's face as he continued to blankly stare out in front of him.   
McGee found himself going over all the possibilities of what could possibly be going on with Tony. As many times as the senior field agent had taken a hit to the head, he didn't think it was possible for him to have a debilitating head injury from whatever hit Cullen had managed to get in. But the lethargic look of the agent told him that it was, indeed, a possibility.   
After everything Tony had been through, it broke Tim's heart that they'd lost him to Cullen again; that he'd been taken right out from under them again. And though they'd found him in a much more timely fashion this time, it seemed almost as if it was too late...as if they'd beaten fate to the punch the first time and it was coming around to reclaim its victim now.  
That made McGee think about the fact that Tony would probably be making a movie reference right about now. “This reminds me of the movie Final Destination...” He found himself blinking back tears and forced himself to look away from his friend.   
His eyes inadvertently met Gibbs'. Through the mask of strength the lead agent pretty much always held in tact, Tim could detect a similar level of fear of the unknown fate of their friend. It didn't show much on Gibbs, but the speck that did show through spoke a thousand words for its strength.  
“Bus'll have a hard time finding us back here,” Gibbs told him.   
“I- I'll go...lead them in, Boss,” he said, cursing himself under his breath for the unexpected cracking in his voice. He made sure that Tony was secured by Gibbs before he stood to hurry back down the row and cut up the driveway.  
Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony, glad to have sent McGee out of the way, since the poor kid seemed about ready to lose it. But he needed to try and snap Tony out of...whatever it was he was in.   
He turned to kneel facing the agent, keeping hands on his shoulders to hold him upright. “Tony, I need ya to come back, now,” he said in a calm voice, then placed a hand on Tony's face, holding it steady so he could look into his eyes. “You're safe now, ya hear me? I told you I'd find you. And this time I can promise you that we have the right man. He won't be able to come near you again.”  
As he watched the lack of response from his agent, he thought back to the meeting they'd had with Dr. Green; when he'd been afraid of the possibility that Tony could get lost inside of his own mind. And now that he had brought both personalities together, it seemed like this would be the outcome of such a tragedy. Was he hiding back there? Had he been that terrified?  
Now that he thought about it, it was more than likely that he had been. There were no marks on his hands indicating self-defense. No sign of struggle against the cuffs... No way Cullen had time to access any means to drug him. The state he was in had to have been created by pure, unadulterated fear; the fear of going back to that place. And that was something that he, perhaps, believed had happened...  
“Listen to me,” he continued, tightening his grip a bit on Tony's shoulder. “You are not back there, Tony. You never went back there. You trust me, don't ya? I wouldn't lie to you...” he flinched when he saw the slightest shift of Tony's eyes. Taking advantage of the moment, he tapped him in the back of the head, lightly, “DiNozzo!” he yelled.  
Tony began to blink rapidly; eyes darting around in a bit of confusion as he tried to focus. With the great confusion came tears of slight disbelief, or perhaps thoughts of misplaced sanity, as what was once a darkened cell became a bright freedom and warmth.   
“Tony?” He turned at the sound of Gibbs' voice and met steely blue eyes.  
“Boss...” his hand shot up to grab hold of his shoulder as if desperately trying to hang on to this realm, whether it existed or not.  
Gibbs mouth turned up the slightest bit on one side, showing the relief that Tony seemed to be okay now. “That's what they call me.”  
“You found me,” he verified.  
“Wouldn't lie to you, Tony,” he told him.   
Tony couldn't hold back any longer. He let go of the threatening vomit of emotion; the relief washing over him like pouring rain, but the indescribable fear still running like venom through his veins. The dozens of other feelings he couldn't even begin to categorize...pulling down the already paper-thin walls he'd tried to begin to build for himself again.  
Gibbs was pulling his head against his chest and he realized that he had been shaking; crying with a strength he didn't know he possessed to do so. Embarrassment taking a backseat, he let it go. Gibbs just continued to hold onto him, and Tony gripped either side of his boss's jacket as if to further anchor himself to the man's stronghold.   
“I've got you,” Gibbs needed only to whisper now. Tony's outburst lasted only a few moments, but the shaking hadn't left him yet. Gibbs seemed to understand, and that made this a lot easier for him.   
They heard the sirens from the ambulance in the distance and Tony pulled away slightly, swiping at his face to remove what wetness he could.  
“Before you start fightin',” Gibbs said, “You're goin' in to be seen, Tony. I know he didn't have the chance to do much, but he at least clocked ya good in the head. Better to be safe.” Tony's eyes shifted around a bit fearfully. “I'm goin' with you. You don't have to go alone.” A much less self-incriminating way to communicate, 'No way I'm letting you go anywhere alone for a damned long time'.   
Tony seemed to think the idea was acceptable...


	31. Chapter 31

Tony sat on the back end of the ambulance, his legs dangling off the side as he held an oxygen mask to his face. The EMTs were busy checking his vitals and Gibbs was in Tony's sight, not a few feet away from the back of the vehicle. He was on the phone, reporting back to Fornell, and then to Ziva, whom he'd instructed to notify Vance.   
When he ended the call and put his phone back into his pocket, he began looking around with narrowed eyes, and Tony could sense concern in them.  
“Boss? Everything okay?” Tony asked, taking the mask away long enough for him to be heard.  
Gibbs met his eyes for a moment, “Just wondering where McGee went.”  
“Was he here?”  
Gibbs nodded. “Told him to lead the ambulance in.”  
“Your agent was walking toward the car in the front lot after pointing us in the right direction,” one of the EMTs told him. “I was guessing he planned to bring the car back here...”  
Gibbs nodded and looked over in the direction of where McGee had run off in the first place, half-expecting him to come around the corner, and partly concerned that something had happened to him.   
Tony saw the look on his boss's face and was suddenly also concerned for his probie. “Boss? Go find him,” he told him. Gibbs looked at Tony and narrowed his eyes. “I'm not goin' anywhere. Just go... Not like him to just disappear,” he said, and Gibbs could tell that he was just as concerned, if not moreso.   
He nodded, “I'll be back. Don't go anywhere without me,” he instructed the EMT.  
“No, sir. We'll wait for ya,” the medic told him.  
Gibbs set off toward the end of the row to the alley way. Once he reached the clearing, he looked up the road toward the car and saw, in the distance, his agent sitting in the driver seat; door open. He was sitting sideways with his feet on the asphalt and his head between his knees. His arms wrapped like ram's horns beside his head and his hands lightly gripped where they ended on the back of his head.  
The way he was breathing, Gibbs surmised that the agent was in some kind of distress. As he closed the space between them, he knelt down in front of McGee. “Tim?” he said softly. “You okay?” he placed a comforting hand on McGee's knee.  
He let out what seemed like a bitter, breathy laugh, “You're asking me that question?”   
“Ya didn't come back. Kinda had me worried.”  
“I intended to follow the ambulance when they left. I...I couldn't see him like that again, Boss. I can't...” he paused to take a few breaths. “How could this happen again?” he asked in a small voice. “I just can't believe... I thought we wouldn't find him in time. And seeing him like that kinda means that we didn't...” his voice cracked.  
“McGee,” Gibbs moved his hand to his shoulder, “Tony's gonna be okay. He snapped out of it, so to speak. He's bein' checked over now; but he's responding. He's himself, in a manner of speaking. We haven't lost him.”  
The muscle under Gibbs' hand relaxed a small fraction. McGee took a few long breaths before speaking again. “It's been...a really long time since I last had a panic attack,” he told him. Gibbs flinched almost imperceptibly. “I almost didn't know what was happening to me, at first. Thought, maybe a heart attack. But then it all became pretty clear.”  
“You gonna be okay? You need me to get one of the medics over here?”  
McGee shook his head and slowly pulled his arms away from his head and began to push himself up from the position. He met Gibbs' eyes. “I'm okay. Just needed to get my breath back and stop my heart from trying to escape my chest. Hearing that Tony's okay helped,” he gave him a small smile.   
“Good,” he replied and stood from the crouched position. “I think he's a bit worried about you now. So let's go see him,” he held a hand out to help him out of the car. Tim took it and stood, and as he did so, Gibbs could feel just how shaky he was, still. “Sure you're okay?”  
“I'll be fine,” he insisted as they began walking. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you okay?”  
Gibbs glanced at him in question. “Do I seem otherwise?”  
“Rarely,” he replied without hesitation. Gibbs raised his brows. “But I know you weren't really okay a little while ago. That, I can say, for sure.”  
Gibbs looked at him for a moment before he couldn't help a small smile. “Still channeling DiNozzo, I see,” he said.  
McGee shrugged, “Don't know what to say to that. I might be stuck like this. Can't be all bad,” he smirked.   
Gibbs let out a small laugh, “In combination with your deductive reasoning, I'm sure you'll be able to work it better, as far as not going too far with it.”  
“But you still didn't answer the question, Boss,” he pressed.  
“See, now you're pushin' it, McGee,” he responded lightheartedly   
“According to you, that shouldn't be possible,” he raised a brow.  
Gibbs shook his head with a smirk. “Think I'll be okay, too, Tim,” he patted his shoulder as they reached the ambulance.   
Before coming into view of the medics and Tony, they overheard the questions they were asking, and decided to hang back for a few moments.  
“Do you recall losing consciousness?” one of them asked.  
“No. Don't think I did,” Tony replied. “I remember him stopping the car and opening the trunk. He took my phone and hit me. Saw stars for bit, but I don't think I was out.”  
“Your boss said you were awake but unresponsive when he found you, and for a bit before we arrived. Do you remember that?”  
Tony was silent for a long moment as he contemplated the question. “Maybe...maybe I did kinda...pass out at some point,” he told them. “I seem to remember waking up in the dark...thinkin' I was...” he stopped for a moment, then let out a small laugh. “I thought I was...somewhere else. Clearly, I was wrong.”  
Gibbs swallowed, not noticing when McGee glanced over in his direction.  
“I kinda...zoned out, I think, for a while. Next thing I know, I hear Gibbs – my boss, telling me he found me. Smacked some sense into me, I guess,” he let out another small laugh, “And I realized where I really was.”  
“Well, it doesn't seem like you have a concussion,” the medic told him. “Your blood pressure is a little low, but not dangerously so. Do you have someone at home that could keep an eye on you for the next 24 hours? Just as a precaution...”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm...staying with someone. So, I don't have to go to the hospital?”  
“I honestly don't think it's necessary,” he replied. “You seem to be just fine, physically speaking.”  
“That mean I'm not mentally fine?” he smirked.  
The medic let out a small laugh, “You seem, to me, to be completely lucid; even better since we got here and you've been on oxygen. So, unless something comes up later on, I think you're okay to go home.”  
“I'll be sure to bring him in, if anything comes up,” Gibbs said as he walked into view.  
“Everything okay, McGee?” Tony asked as he hopped off the back.  
“You're asking me?”  
“Well, I just got the okay,” he beamed a smile. “You, on the other hand, look like hell.” He took a few steps forward toward McGee.  
“I...don't look like hell, Tony,” he furrowed his brow.  
“Yeah, ya do. Ya look like you've been throwing up. And yeah, I'm pretty sure I've seen ya look that way before.”  
“I haven't. I didn't,” he clarified. “I just... I'm just glad you're okay,” he said. Tim couldn't help himself and he stepped forward and embraced his friend, catching Tony a little off-guard.   
But Tony didn't push him away; he could feel the agent shaking, and it made him return the hug. “Thanks to all of you,” he told him. “Thanks for that, by the way. Not sure I could've done that again...”   
Tim shyly pulled away, “It's our job, Tony.”  
“But it's harder when it's someone you know.”  
“No,” Tim corrected, “It's scarier. So maybe that's why it seems that way.”  
Tony's mouth curled up on one side, “You admitting you were scared, Probie?”  
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.  
“We all were,” Gibbs chimed in.   
Tony glanced over at him for a moment as the grin slowly faded from his face in understanding. Then he looked back and forth between the two before slipping the infamous grin back on, “Well, I can't really poke fun at ya, 'cause I'm pretty sure I probably had you both beat.” They stood there in silence for another long moment before Tony became fidgety. “Can we go now?” he met Gibbs' eyes.  
“Yeah,” he put a hand on Tony's shoulder and led him as they headed toward the car. “Let's go home.”


	32. Chapter 32

McGee headed back to the office after bringing Gibbs back to his car with Tony. He needed to go in and assist on making sure Cullen was properly handled. Not to mention that he'd be meeting with Vance as well, in light of the fact that Gibbs wouldn't be. It was unspoken and not expected of him, but he'd do it anyway.  
Ziva had been with Fornell as Cullen was transported, and by the time McGee arrived in the bullpen, she and Abby nearly pounced on him.  
“Is he alright, McGee?” Ziva asked.  
“You never told us what hospital they took him to,” Abby said where she stood beside the Israeli.  
“He's okay,” he replied calmly, “And I never told you because he didn't go to the hospital.”  
“What? Gibbs let him refuse treatment?” Abby asked, incredulously.  
“He wasn't hurt; not enough to go to the hospital, anyway. Cullen didn't have the chance,” he told them.  
“Wasn't hurt?” Abby questioned. “How did he get shoved into a trunk if he wasn't hurt, McGee?”  
“I mean, he wasn't seriously hurt, Abs. He got hit in the head, but not enough for a concussion,” he finished and ended up thinking through that statement in his head. Tony said, in the ambulance, that he'd been hit prior to being in the trunk. But how did Cullen over-power him in the first place?  
“He is with Gibbs, yes?” Ziva asked. “At home.”  
“Yeah. That's where they were headed when I left them.”  
“Can you handle things with Fornell by yourself, until I get back?” she asked.  
“Don't see why not,” he replied with a furrowed brow, then realized she meant she was going to see Tony. “Go ahead, Ziva. I'll call you if we really need you back here.”  
“Thank you, McGee,” she nodded and turned to leave the bullpen after grabbing her bag and keys.  
“He's really okay, Tim?” Abby asked in a softer voice.   
He met her eyes again. “Yeah, Abby. I wouldn't lie to you about something like that.”  
She gave him a small nod as she assessed him. Her eyes narrowed, “Are you okay?”  
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he huffed and started toward his desk.  
“Who else asked you?”  
“Is that really important?” he cocked his head.  
“Well...I think they're asking because you seem exhausted.”  
“It's kind of been a long day,” he retorted.  
“It's not even noon, Timmy,” she shot back, calmly, and approached his desk.   
Tim furrowed his brows and looked up at the clock. “Really?”  
“I mean, I guess I understand why it seemed that way,” she said. “But really...are you?”  
McGee sighed and plopped down in his chair. “Honestly...” he drew in a deep breath. Abby pulled Tony's desk chair over, quickly, and sat down facing him so he could talk quietly. “I was scared out of my mind. I was terrified...probably even more than when he last went missing. And maybe it's because I knew how it could end up this time. And then suddenly he was okay...and it was such an overwhelming sense of relief that I think my brain went into overload and now I feel like I could go to sleep for about a week.”  
“My futon's open, Timmy,” she gave him a small smile.  
“Thanks, Abs, but I don't have time to sleep yet. I've gotta square everything away with this Cullen business. Although, honestly, it would've been a lot easier if we let Ziva take him out,” he smirked.  
“Paperwork would have been horrendous, though,” she grinned.  
“Paperwork could have waited until tomorrow,” he retorted.  
“Touche,” she playfully punched his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help?”  
“I was considering the fact that you could kill without leaving a trace...”  
“This would be the perfect time to put that to use.”  
“I'm kidding, Abby. I won't let that monster off so easily.”  
“Who said it'd be easy? Ya think Ziva's the only one with torture techniques?”  
“Torture is sloppy,” Vance's voice sounded as he rounded the staircase and entered the bullpen.   
Both Abby and McGee stood, nervously. “Gee, Director,” Abby said, “That was pretty stealthy. You been takin' lessons from Gibbs?” Even Abby knew, as she said it, that it was a fairly bold question. Vance looked at her with a very small sense of amusement on his face. Small, but there. “I'll...just be going back to my lab,” she decided, and turned, heading toward the staircase.   
Vance turned his attention back to Tim. “I overheard Agent DiNozzo was cleared to go home,” he said, looking for confirmation.  
“Yes, sir,” Tim replied.  
“Glad to hear he wasn't badly hurt. You can do your report on the account of today's events, tomorrow, Agent McGee. Take the rest of the day; go home and get some rest.”  
“Director, I'm fine,” he insisted. “I need to meet with Fornell and make sure the process of getting Cullen put-”  
“I've got it taken care of,” Vance interrupted. “Michael Cullen will have the maximum security transport the system has to offer. There's no way he's gettin' outta this one, barring he's got supernatural powers,” he smirked. “He'll be transferred ASAP to the Menard Correctional Center in Chester, Illinois. Which, as you know, is maximum security. There'll be eight armed guards waiting to lead him in, in addition to the four on the bus. Cullen isn't goin' anywhere, this time. I can promise you that,” he nodded with his last statement.   
McGee hesitated for a few moments. “At least let me stay and do my report, sir. While it's still fresh in my memory; I'd rather not rehash, tomorrow.”  
Vance contemplated the request. “Alright,” he nodded. “Bring it up to me when you're finished, and I'll be sure to send a copy to Fornell for you.”  
“Thank you, sir,” he replied before taking a seat at his desk again. He watched Vance walk away and wondered how bad he must actually look, for the director to insist that he go home. He honestly didn't even want to know.  
So, he turned to his computer and began his report...

11 00 11 00 11

“Tony!” Jackson stood from his chair in the living room as they came through the door. “Thank God you're okay, son,” he walked the few meters toward him and pulled him into a hug. “Last Leroy told me, that bastard had gotten to you first,” he said as he pulled away and looked at Gibbs.  
“I told you...?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, trying to recall when he'd done that.  
“Well sure,”Jackson cocked his head a bit. “Ya called me about an hour ago; told me you were lookin' for 'im.” Jackson furrowed his brow in concern, until Gibbs met his eyes again.  
“Yeah, of course,” he told him. He suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable; all eyes being on him. “I'm gonna make coffee. You need anything, DiNozzo?”  
“No; thanks, Boss. Think I'm gonna head upstairs and take a shower,” he told him.  
Gibbs gave him a curt nod and headed into the kitchen as Tony headed up the stairs. Jackson followed after his son. Once he was sure Tony was out of earshot, he spoke, “You didn't remember calling me?”  
Gibbs glanced over at him and then back to the coffee pot, which consequently, already had a fresh brew made. “Remembered after you reminded me,” he said as he poured the hot amber liquid into a mug.   
Jackson appraised his son for a moment before responding. “When ya called me,” he began, “Ya sounded like when you'd called me the last time he'd been missing. Maybe even moreso, this time.” Gibbs turned with his coffee in hand, and looked at his father with curiosity. “Lost,” he elaborated. “And I know it takes a lot to make ya sound that way, openly.”  
“I'd thought I'd lost him, Dad,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet. “To tell ya the truth, lookin' back on that entire time I was lookin' for him, it seems splotchy and out of sequence; like I blocked parts of it out. All I can really, truly remember with vivid detail, is how scared I was that I wasn't gonna find him.”  
Jackson was thoroughly surprised by his son's openness, but wouldn't say anything to possibly cause him to feel like he needed to stop. “I can imagine how terrifying it must have been,” he said. “After goin' through what you and your team went through the last time and finding him the way ya did. It's not completely surprising that any person would've felt that way. And I know you've dealt with some pretty gruesome stuff in your line of work. But this is different. This is personal, and that is always different.”  
Gibbs looked down a bit, nodding in acknowledgment of his father's words. He looked down at his coffee, but suddenly had no desire to drink it. “I'm tired,” he said. “Think I might go lie down for a bit.”  
“You sure you're alright, Leroy?” Jackson asked as Gibbs set the mug down in the sink.  
“Yeah, I'm okay, Dad,” he replied, turning to him and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Just tired.”  
Jackson chanced embracing him, and was happy that Gibbs allowed it. “You found him and brought him home safe,” he reminded him. “You did good, Leroy.”  
Gibbs couldn't explain to himself why the hug made him feel a little better, but it did. He tightened his arms around his father's back for a moment, then kissed his temple before pulling away. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

*~.~*

The moment Tony shut the door to the bathroom and turned on the shower, he allowed the emotional floodgate to open again. He'd been proud that he was able to hold it together as long as he had; he'd shown enough to his boss before the ambulance had arrived. And he'd been able to put a clamp on it from that point out.   
Seeing the distraught look on McGee's face had almost done him in. Sure, the kid was doing his best to compose himself, but Tony could see it. He'd attempted to crack a joke or two to snap him out of it, for both their sakes. But when Tim had surprised him with a hug, and he felt the shaking in the younger man's body, Tony had nearly lost it. He was glad that his own face was hidden from Gibbs, because had anyone seen the struggle to keep that wall up, they would've known exactly what was up with him.  
The facts, though, remained; Cullen had found him and captured him again. He hadn't even fought back; not even a little bit. He'd allowed that monster to reign complete control over his every move from the moment they'd met eyes in front of the Potomac.   
It was so easy; too easy. Tony was supposed to be a trained Federal Agent. There were ways out of that situation and he'd known it. But fear had gripped hold of him like an invisible vise and had controlled him just as easily as Cullen had. He'd nearly lost his life...Nearly been brought back to that place. Hell, he'd thought, at one point, that he was back there. And he'd given up. He'd gone back into hiding...  
As Tony slipped into the shower, unknowingly still partially clothed from the waist down, weariness flowed over him as freely as the hot water from the shower. He slowly sank down to sit inside of the tub and hugged his knees close to his chest.  
“I'm not even an agent anymore,” he thought. “I couldn't be...I can't be an agent, like this. I'm not the same man I was... Don't know if I'll ever be...” As these thoughts played over and over in his head, he closed his eyes and let his tears mingle with the spray of water against his face...


	33. Chapter 33

A soft knock on the door had Jackson a bit curious, and he quickly stood and went to answer it before any further insistence could wake his son. When he opened the door, he couldn't help but smile, “Ziva!” he exclaimed quietly.  
She smiled, “Jackson. I came to see that Tony was alright.”  
“I think he's layin' down whenever he's done with his shower,” he told her. “And Leroy's gone to catch some sleep. But I'd love if you'd come in and join be for a cup of coffee,” he smiled.  
“If Gibbs has any tea, then I would love to,” she returned the smile and crossed over the threshold. 

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs laid awake, staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom, and subconsciously listened to the soft whir of the shower in the next room over. When it wasn't so subconscious anymore, he realized it had been a really long time that Tony had been in there. He doubted there would be any hot water left.  
Concern nagging at the back of his brain, Gibbs pushed himself out of bed and out of the room toward the guest room. The door was open, and the bathroom door was slightly ajar, he noticed, as he walked up to it. “Tony?” he called, softly knocking.  
After a moment, he heard Tony reply with a quiet, “Yeah?”  
“You okay? Been in there a while...”  
“J-just t-tryin' t' get warm,” the sound of the younger agent's voice reignited Gibbs' concern, and he wasted no more time entering the bathroom.   
Steam filled the small room, indicating that the water was still hot, despite Gibbs' earlier prediction. He noted that just Tony's shirt was on the floor. “You're cold?” he asked through the barrier of the curtain. “It's like a sauna in here.” He received no reply, but heard Tony's chattering teeth. “You still wearin' pants?” he asked.  
After a moment of what Gibbs assumed was Tony assessing his current state, he heard him reply, “Yeah.”  
Gibbs pulled open the shower curtain and looked down at his agent who was sitting with his knees to his chest under the spray; body shaking as if he were naked in the middle of a snowstorm. “Christ, DiNozzo,” he cursed and reached over to turn off the water. “Damned medic...” he said under his breath. “C'mon, let's get you outta there,” he helped Tony to stand and step out of the tub, and Tony allowed himself to be led out of it, then wrapped his arms around his front as tremors quaked through his body at the intensified feeling of freezing.   
Gibbs wrapped a large towel around him that made Tony seem like a little kid that just came out of the pool. He then proceeded to strip him of his soaked sweatpants and wrap another towel around his waist for added warmth. Tony's lack of embarrassment or response to these administrations worried him further.  
“Let's get you dressed, Tony,” he said, leading him out of the bathroom. He pulled another pair of sweatpants from the top drawer and handed them to Tony, who took them, and in an almost robotic manner, slipped them on and rewrapped the towel around himself.   
Gibbs pulled a throw-blanket from the chair in the corner and took the wet towels from Tony, wrapping the blanket around him in place of them. After tossing the wet towels into the bathroom, he pulled the covers down on the bed and pulled Tony toward it, sitting him down on the edge.   
That's when Tony looked up at him, and he noticed the younger man's eyes were red and swollen and glassy. “I c-can't d-do this,” he said in a small voice.  
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “Can't do what?” Tony looked down at his lap and shook his head. Gibbs moved to sit down carefully beside him. “Can't do what, Tony?” he repeated.   
Tony's eyes moved up to the wall in front of them and Gibbs could see, even though looking at his profile, that he had unshed tears in his eyes; ones he was clinging to in desperation to not let fall. “Can't w-work for you,” he said, brokenly. “Can't be an agent; n-not l-like this.”  
“Tony-”  
“I can't have your s-six, Gibbs,” his voice cracked and he looked over at him. “I can't even have my own. I didn't f-fight him; d-didn't even try.”  
“He had a gun on you. You had nothing, and you were exhausted.”  
“I was s-scared,” he corrected; a tear escaping down his cheek then.  
“You had every right to be,” he told him, taking his arm to help lead him to lie down.  
“N-no!” Tony pulled away. “N-not like th-that, I don't. Th-that's what g-gets people k-killed!” he began shivering even more.  
“C'mon, Tony. Lie down so you can get under the covers and warm up.”  
Tony looked down again before moving to comply; lifting his legs shakily onto the mattress before Gibbs pulled each layer of covers over the agent and tucked them around him. “What am I...supposed to do, now, Gibbs?” Tony asked in barely a whisper.  
Gibbs sat back down on the edge of the bed beside him. “Ya give yourself some time to recover from all this,” he told him, then turned to meet his eyes. “Doesn't matter how long that takes. But you will come back from this. Might not feel like that right now...”  
“I went b-back there,” he said in a small voice. Gibbs narrowed his eyes in question. “W-when you f-found me,” he elaborated, “I w-wasn't th-there. I was back...back in that room...” Another shiver ran through Tony's body, and Gibbs moved to the other side of the bed and tucked the blankets around him tighter, then sat down beside him; back up against the headboard. “D-don't you s-see?” Tony continued. “I was back there; trapped back in s-side my h-head. There's-s s-somethin' wr-wrong with me, Boss...” he choked out a sob.  
“Only thing wrong with you, is that you went through a trauma,” Gibbs reassured him, scooting closer and pulling the man to lay against his chest as he put his arm around him and rubbed up and down his back to try and warm him further. “And you almost went through it again. Your coping mechanism has changed greatly; not your ability to cope.”  
“I d-don't h-have a m-mechanism,” Tony replied as he curled up into the radiating heat of Gibbs' side.  
“You'll find it,” Gibbs assured him. “Just have to give it time.”  
Tony was silent for a few moments, and Gibbs could sense his start to relax a bit; the shaking dying down some. “How much time?” he asked.  
“That, I don't have the answer to,” Gibbs replied. “But we'll be here with you, every step of the way. No matter what, DiNozzo. You got that?”   
He felt Tony nod against his chest and then burrow himself deeper against him. The shaking had almost completely stopped. “Gibbs?” Tony asked in barely a whisper.  
“Yeah?”  
“Will...will you stay? Just for a little while?”  
Gibbs couldn't help but to notice the side of Tony's personality that was dominant in this moment. “Yeah, sure, Tony. I'll stay,” he told him, and settled more comfortably.  
Soon, he could sense the evening-out of Tony's breathing as he began to drift off. And it lulled Gibbs to sleep as well...


	34. Chapter 34

Jackson was tending to the fire in the fireplace when his son came down the stairs.   
“What're ya doin', Dad?” Gibbs asked as he approached where his father was crouched down.  
“What's it look like?” he chuckled. “It was gettin' cold. It'll be dark, soon. Figured this'd be nice, for a change.” Gibbs gave a small nod. “Sleep well?”  
“Not a bad nap,” he admitted. “What've you been up to, besides building a fire?” he smirked.  
“Ziva came by earlier,” he told him, pushing to stand and place the poker back in its place. “She wanted to see how Tony was doin'. She's gonna come back a little later with dinner. I told her that was okay... That's okay, right?”  
“Sure,” Gibbs replied. “There coffee?”  
“Is there ever not?” Jackson replied with a smirk and raised brows.  
Gibbs grinned and shook his head before heading toward the kitchen. 

11 00 11 00 11

Vance had just hung up the phone after an unnerving call, when the secretary buzzed over the intercom.   
“Sir, Agent McGee is here to see you,” she said.  
“Send him in,” he replied shortly and turned the com off.   
McGee came through the door with a file folder in his hand and closed the door behind him before approaching the desk. “My report, sir,” he said as he handed it over to Vance.  
Vance took it with a nod. “I just got off the phone with SecNav. Cullen's lawyer says Cullen will agree to make a full accounting and confession of all actions, on one condition.”  
“What's that?” McGee furrowed his brows.  
“Cullen requests one of DiNozzo's team members conducts the interview,” he replied tilting his chin up a bit as he awaited Tim's reaction.  
Without hesitation, McGee replied, “I'll do it.”  
“Tim...”  
“No, sir,” he retorted. “I'm not gonna let you call Gibbs in here to do it. And Ziva's gone for the day; not to mention, she'd probably end up killing the guy... On second thought, maybe you should call Ziva.” He was only partly joking.  
Vance gave him a small smirk, “Alright, McGee. You wanna conduct the interview, then it's yours.” Tim's face showed a bit of surprise at the quick agreement. “I trust you to do this. Don't doubt yourself or my decision.”  
“No, sir,” he shook his head.   
“He's in room two; Fornell is still down there in observation and we've got two men at the door.”

11 00 11 00 11

“Yes, everything I told you people before about my brother, was true,” Cullen told McGee, where he sat across from him on the other side of the table in interrogation. They'd been there for nearly half an hour as the man told him about the other victims. “Except that I was telling you about myself. I didn't lie about the events...not entirely. I killed Shaun because he figured it out and was going to try and stop me.”  
“And you left Agent DiNozzo to die, to cover your story,” McGee added.  
Cullen grinned, “I said I didn't lie entirely.” He leaned forward a bit on the table and looked Tim in the eyes, “Do you know what I did to your partner?” he asked; the grin still in place. “Did he tell you what he did, all for something to eat?” McGee's eyes twitched involuntarily as he tried to withhold from giving Cullen the satisfaction of playing into his little game. Cullen laughed, “He let me fuck him; all for a slice of pizza.” Tim's eyes flashed with anger. Cullen's laugh ignited stronger, “You should've heard him scream!”  
McGee couldn't hold back any longer. He shot up from his chair and rounded the table, knocking Cullen to the floor onto his back, and knelt upon the man's chest as his arm laid heavily across his throat, “You sick sonofabitch!” McGee yelled in his face through gritted teeth.   
Cullen continued to laugh, though it was through a much narrower windpipe, and saliva spewed from his lips and drooled down his cheek. “Go ahead; hit me,” he squeaked out. “Give me what I deserve...” Tim drew back his fist and held it there for a moment. He was shaking with rage, and he wanted nothing more than to beat this monster to a bloody pulp. Why no one had rushed into the room to stop him yet, he didn't know. “C'mon, Agent McGee,” he choked. “Do it. Take me out.”   
Then he realized exactly why he'd taunted him; Cullen didn't want to go to prison. It was his biggest fear. It's what started all of this in the first place, and his only way out now, was to piss someone off enough to kill him.   
McGee slowly let his arm drop back to his side and released his hold against Cullen's throat. “No. You don't get it that easy,” he told him as he stood. “You're going away for the rest of your pathetic life, and I'm pretty damn positive they'll do to you what you did to Tony, ten-fold.”  
At McGee's sudden relaxed stature, Cullen frowned. “After everything I did to him; after the weeks of endless humiliating torture I dished out to your friend, you're just going to stand there? What are you, afraid? I'm betting Anthony was terrified,” he grinned, changing his tactics again. “In fact, I know he was. I pushed him over and over again to the edge, and left him there in the dark to suffer alone. Every day. I took away every part of him that you knew, and left him as a whimpering child to die. I was so close...so close to getting exactly what I wanted... And then I had that chance again, today,” he laughed. “Could you imagine my surprise and excitement to find him, right there, out in the open? It was as if someone had cleaned him up and laid him out for me to start all over again. It would have been so sweet...making him beg...”  
“Well, you failed again,” Tim told him. “He's fine now; whatever you did to him before, he's getting over it. He'll be back on the job putting people like you away again, in no time.”  
“You're wrong,” Cullen shook his head, with that smug smile still firmly planted on his face. “I didn't fail; he's broken. You should've seen him today. He didn't fight me; he couldn't,” he laughed. “He's a shell of the man you once knew. Somewhere deep inside, I'm sure you can see that I'm right.”  
Though McGee could feel his heart churning in his chest, he was determined to show nothing but determined faith. “You're wrong, Cullen,” he told him. “You should know that, seeing as it takes one to know one; you're already a shell of a man. And when you're lying on the cold cement floor of your prison cell being gang-raped, I want you to remember Tony. Because he's gonna be the one putting more of those guys in there; he's gonna be the one sending them your way. And it'll never stop, Cullen; it'll be every day, and no one will stop them, just like no one's stopping me from hurting you, right now.”  
Cullen growled as McGee turned to face the door. “You refuse to get retribution for your friend?! You refuse to hurt me?!” he screamed. “C'mon! I'm right here! Surely, you wanna make me suffer for what I've done! Are you afraid your job will be in jeopardy? Is that it? I GIVE YOU PERMISSION! I WAVE MY RIGHTS! TAKE ME OUT!!” he screamed.  
Tim opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind him, before heading down the hall; passing by the agents posted, and passing the observation room door. He rounded the corner right before hearing Fornell shouting after him, but he kept going.   
“I'll handle this,” Vance told Fornell as he came out of the room behind him. “You get that sonofabitch outta my Yard.” He stalked off down the hall, then paused briefly as he thought. Then he headed toward the elevator instead, to head to Abby's lab. If anyone could talk to the kid, it would be her... Well, anyone available.

11 00 11 00 11

Abby somehow ended up down in the gym, after searching the obvious places McGee might have gone off to. This time of the day, the gym was usually deserted. There were barely any lights on, now, but she knew he was here once she walked toward the door, because his shirt was haphazardly thrown on the floor there.   
She entered silently and watched Tim as he attempted to pulverize the punching bag in front of him. His back was to her, but she could she that he hadn't bothered with gloves. He was breathing heavily and his knuckles were bloody. She realized she'd been looking for him for nearly twenty minutes by that time. Which meant he'd been at this for that long. Which, in turn, allowed her to realize just how upset he was about whatever happened in that interrogation room.   
He stopped, suddenly, and Abby thought he might be too wiped to continue. But then he ran toward the trash can that sat just outside of the mens shower room, and began to heave into it.   
“Oh, Timmy,” she said as she hurried over to him.  
He coughed and looked up at her, “What are you doing here?”  
“I was looking for you,” she explained with a furrowed brow. “Vance wanted me to make sure you were okay after you left the interview with Cullen.”  
“Well, I'm fine; so you can go now,” he spat, and straightened before heading into the mens room. He went to the sink and turned it on, cupping water to his mouth so he could rinse and spit, before getting more to splash over his face.  
“Tim, talk to me,” Abby sounded beside him and he looked over.  
“This is the mens room, Abby. I swear, between you and Ziva, there should be some kinda law by now...”  
“There probably is,” she smirked and handed him a towel. The smirk disappeared. “Please, talk to me?”   
The 'please' is what got him; always did. He closed his eyes behind the towel and sighed before pulling it away and looking at her again. “I just... I wanted to hit him, so bad,” he told her. “I wanted to make him bleed; hurt him like he did Tony. He even gave me permission. But that was the point; he wanted it. He wanted me to kill him; spare him the sentence.”  
“But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction,” she said with understanding.  
“But I wanted to, Abby. I wanted to, so bad... And I didn't even let myself hit him, even once. I should've hit him...” he threw the towel in the bin. “I could have. But I don't know that I would've been able to stop, had I started.”  
“So you came down here to let off some steam.” He nodded and looked down at his hands, which he just realized hurt like a bitch. He was almost mesmerized by the blood. “And you've destroyed your poor hands, McGee.” He looked back up at her. “Go take a shower; I'll bring your spare clothes down, and I'll let Ducky know to expect us in a little bit so he can make sure you didn't do any permanent damage.”  
McGee gave her a small smile, “Okay. Thanks, Abs,” he told her in a quiet voice.   
She gave him a hug, “Do you feel any better?” she asked.  
“I feel like I'm done hitting things for the day,” he conceded.   
She pulled away with a smile, “Okay. Now go; cleanse thyself. I'll be right back.”

11 00 11 00 11

“Punching without gloves, Timothy?” Ducky scolded as he examined McGee's hands where he sat on the first cold table. “Really...you should know better.”  
“I wasn't in the best state of mind when I made the decision, Ducky,” McGee defended, then hissed as Ducky squeezed at his knuckles.  
“Painful lesson learned,” the doctor commented. “Well, I don't think anything's broken, but there are twenty-seven bones in the human hand. I'll just take a quick x-ray, to be certain. Other than that, you probably have some bruised bones, and will undoubtedly have a bit of swelling to go along with where you've torn the skin on your knuckles. I can already see some impressive bruising beginning.”  
“I'll get you some ice packs,” Abby said. “Then I'm taking you home.” The tone of voice she used meant it wasn't up for debate, and she turned to find the packs.  
“Dear boy, what on earth did that monster say to upset you so much?” Ducky asked as he prepared him for the x-ray.  
“I don't think I should say,” he replied in a quiet voice.   
“Well, I am privy to most of what did happen, Timothy,” he told him as he worked. “And I am Anthony's primary physician...”  
“This is different, Ducky,” he met the doctor's eyes. “This isn't for me to say, and I'm pretty sure Tony wouldn't want me to be spreading it around like Monday-morning scuttlebutt at the water-cooler.” He looked back down at his hands as Ducky appraised him.  
Dr. Mallard had a frightening thought of what the agent could be saying. After a silent moment, he turned to the goth who was standing silently by the door. “Abigail, could you give us a moment, please?” he asked, sending her a reassuring, albeit small, smile, before she hesitantly left the room. Ducky turned back to Tim. “Now, I understand your reluctance to divulge such information. But if this is what I think it is, it's most definitely something that you need to tell me. And it has little to do with psychological ramifications.”  
Tim's brow furrowed as he met Ducky's eyes, and he pondered that statement for a long moment before he realized what he meant. Worry suddenly washed his face and he swallowed. “He uh...” McGee hesitated; as if a battle was going on in his head over bad versus worse. “Cullen said he...”  
Growing a bit impatient, Ducky decided to ask outright, “Did he rape Tony?”  
McGee blinked rapidly at the word and swallowed again, “Yeah...that's what he said; not exactly those words, but yes.”   
Ducky's demeanor sagged at the news. It had been a possibility, but one they'd hoped wasn't true. “Let's finish up here,” he said. “Then I'll give Jethro a call. I'd intended on checking in on Anthony this evening anyway. They did run some tests in the hospital and took the precautionary measures, if by chance our suspicions were true...”  
“Suspicions?” Tim asked, incredulously. “You suspected he'd been raped, after the initial examination?”  
“There were some indications that it may have happened. But there was no evidence to back it up conclusively. Tony was held there for a long time, Tim. Many of his wounds had partially healed before he was found, including these. The only way to know for certain, would've been to ask him. And in the mental state he was in at the time, it wasn't a possibility to get those answers. It's likely that he may not even remember it, now, in fact. There may be many things he still doesn't recall...or one can only hope...”

11 00 11 00 11

Tony was on the couch, watching a movie with Jackson, when Ziva came in with a covered casserole dish. “Hey, Ziva,” Gibbs greeted, taking the dish from her.  
“Gibbs,” she smiled. “If you would not mind, it needs to go into the oven for fifteen minutes at 350.”  
“Sure,” he took the plate to the kitchen and Ziva made her way to the couch and sat beside Tony.   
Tony looked over at her as she casually reached into his small bowl of popcorn to take a few pieces. “This is Pale Rider, yes?” she asked before popping the kernels into her mouth.  
Tony squinted at her before smirking, “Yeah. How'd you know?”  
“I like Clint Eastwood,” she said without looking away from the screen. “I have been interested in seeing some of his other movies, since catching one on TV a couple of months ago.”  
“Which one was that?”  
“Million Dollar Baby,” she smirked and looked over at him.   
His lips curled up on either side, “Hilary Swank was great in that,” he said. “I'm surprised you liked it; no happy ending, really.”  
“And the ending to this? Will this one be satisfying?”  
“You'll have to wait and find out,” he told her before looking back at the screen.   
She grinned to herself before glancing back at the screen again. Tony seemed relatively okay, and this had been the first she'd seen of him in any form of a normal state since before he'd been taken the first time. He seemed to be relieved by the fact that she wasn't asking questions, and she was perfectly happy to pretend that there weren't any.  
Ziva laid her head on his shoulder after getting a bit more comfortable beside him. And after a few moments, she felt his head settle a bit against hers...


	35. Chapter 35

Gibbs slipped the casserole dish into the oven, once it preheated, and as soon as he closed the door, his cell rang. He picked it up and answered, “Yeah. Gibbs.”  
“Good evening, Jethro,” Ducky sounded on the other line. “I apologize about the time, but something came up. Is everything alright for me to come by?”  
“Yeah, Duck. What happened?”  
“It would be better to discuss it with you when I get there. I won't be long; in fact, I'm on my way as we speak.”  
“Well, Ziva's here; brought dinner, if you're hungry. You're free to join us.”  
“And how is Anthony since you last called?”  
“Doin' better. Would've called you, if he wasn't.”  
“I'm glad he has you, Jethro. Alright; I shall see you shortly.”  
“Bye, Ducky,” he ended the call as Jackson entered from the living room.  
“Everything okay?”  
“Yeah, that was Ducky. He'll be here in a bit to have dinner with us and check in on Tony.”  
“I was expecting him a bit earlier...”  
“Somethin' came up at work, Dad. Probably a body, seeing as Abby hasn't called yet, either.”  
“Was she supposed to come by, too?”  
“Not necessarily. But if she wasn't workin', she'd be over here as well.”

11 00 11 00 11

“Seriously, Abs, I think I can handle getting into my apartment without help,” Tim insisted as she swiped his keys and unlocked the door.  
“That's not the point, McGee. You should try and give your hands as much rest as they can get, so they'll heal faster.” She guided him inside and took his bag, setting it on the floor out of the way. “And that means no computer games for you tonight, mister. And no writing!”  
“Abby, come on!” he protested.  
“No arguments! If you wanted to blow off steam playing video games, then you shouldn't have wasted all that time blowing off steam busting up your hands! You can't have it both ways. Now...are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat...”  
“I don't have anything to fix,” he sighed, resignedly, and plopped down in his computer chair.  
“I can order pizza? Got any beer?” she headed to the fridge to check.  
“Probably. Tony brought some a while back...” the sentence drifted off as he recalled just how long ago it was that Tony had been over.   
Abby glanced over at him and noticed the far away look of despair. He wasn't looking at her, but she sent a sympathetic look his way, anyway, and pulled two of the bottles from the six-pack. “I'll order us a pizza, and we'll watch a movie,” she offered.   
He looked up at her with a furrowed brow as she opened one of the bottles and handed it to him, “You're staying?”  
“Tony brought this beer so you could kick back and watch a movie with him, right? So, we'll do it in honor of him. It's totally exactly what he would do in this situation.”  
“To make sure I don't play video games,” he mockingly scoffed.   
“Yep. Because you're just as stubborn as he is, in some cases,” she said as she picked up the phone and dialed the pizza place. “So, go pick out a movie and I'll be right in...”

11 00 11 00 11

Ducky let himself into Gibbs' house and hung up his coat and hat before entering the living room. “Something smells delicious,” he said.  
“Hey, Ducky,” Jackson got up from his chair. “I believe Ziva just took dinner outta the oven. Want us to fix you a plate?”  
“That would be quite appreciated,” he smiled. “Thank you.” He turned his attention to Tony, who was still partially involved in the movie playing on the screen.   
“Hey, Ducky,” he greeted. “Ever see Pale Rider?”  
“A long time ago, lad,” he chuckled. “But I wouldn't mind watching it again.”  
“It's been on for a while, but if you've seen it, you already know what's goin' on.” He looked up at the doctor. “You get a case in at work?” he asked, just as Gibbs walked in from the kitchen.  
“No, actually,” Ducky answered and turned to look at Gibbs. “I stayed a bit later to x-ray young Timothy's hands.”  
“What?!” Tony sat up straight from his previously slouched position on the couch.  
“What happened?” Gibbs asked with noted concern.  
“Now calm down; nothing's broken. He's bruised inside and out and cut up his knuckles a bit; and they've begun to swell. But he'll be just fine. Abigail took him back to his apartment and is taking care of him.”  
“What happened to his hands, Ducky?” Tony repeated the question and stood.  
“From what I understand,” Ducky began, “Cullen agreed to confess completely to all counts, under the condition that he could be interviewed by one of your team. Timothy volunteered.”  
“Did that sonofabitch hurt McGee?” Tony's anger flared.  
“No, no, Anthony, please...allow me to finish,” he replied, and noted that Tony seemed to calm a bit. “Vance allowed me to review the tape before I left, and nearing the end of the interview, Cullen taunted Timothy; baited him. But as Vance informed me, he accepted the volunteer because he knew Tim wouldn't give in to the taunting. Or...well...he knew he wouldn't take it too far.”  
“What's that mean, Duck?” Gibbs asked.  
“Tim held back for much of what Cullen had to say. But then Cullen became very crude and sickeningly smug. I'm surprised that Timothy restrained himself as much as he did. After a particularly gruesome reiteration, Timothy did lose his patience. He lunged at Cullen, knocking him to the floor and holding him down by the throat. Cullen wanted Tim to kill him. But he knew this, and so he backed off.”  
“Backed off?” Gibbs asked. “Didn't anyone come in to stop him?”  
“I asked why that never happened,” Ducky explained. “Vance told me that he knew McGee wouldn't take it that far; that he'd figure out exactly what was going on.”  
“And if he hadn't?” Tony asked.  
“And if he hadn't, then they weren't opposed to Cullen taking a few hits,” he said with raised, amused brows.  
“What the hell did Cullen say to him to make him react that way?” Tony asked. “And how did he mess up his hands so bad if he never hit him?”  
“To blow off steam, he headed down to the gym and proceeded to manifest Cullen as one of the heavy punching bags. He didn't put on gloves, I'm afraid.”  
“Ouch,” Tony grimaced. “But he's okay, now? Abby's taking care of him...” his gaze drifted off in thought. Ducky was grateful that the question before this one could be avoided for now.  
“Quite right. She's agreed to stay and make sure he doesn't do further damage.”  
“Dinner is served,” Ziva called from the kitchen. The three of them turned and headed into the kitchen, each taking a seat at the table where Ziva and Jackson had served lasagna on each plate.  
“This looks and smells great, Zi,” Tony smiled as he pulled his seat in.   
“I thought you might like something Italian,” she gave him a small smile as she set a large basket of bread in the center of the table and sat down as well.  
“Is that garlic bread?” he asked,excitedly.  
“Mmhm,” she replied as she grabbed a slice for herself.   
“Looks like I picked the right night to show up for dinner,” Ducky chuckled as he reached for the bread.   
“This is really good,” Gibbs commented with a mouthful of the lasagna. “Thanks.”  
“It was my pleasure,” she replied. 

*~.~*

Dinner went by quickly, and Tony was helping Ziva to clean up the kitchen as Gibbs and Ducky went out on the deck to talk. Gibbs hadn't missed the fact that Ducky had dodged Tony's question earlier. But he was a patient man. Now that he had the opportunity, however, he wanted the older man to talk.  
“What set McGee off, Duck?” he asked in a quiet voice.  
“I thought you might ask. And I'm afraid I have no choice but to tell you, for Tony's sake, anyway. The incident we discussed after the initial examination when Tony was first found... The thing we feared was a possibility...”  
“He was raped,” Gibbs said for him. “That what you were gonna say?”  
“He told you? So, he remembers... Why didn't you tell me about this, Jethro?”  
“Because it's his business, Ducky,” he furrowed his brows. “He was treated and tested as if he had been, when he was in the hospital. There's nothin' else for you to do, and no reason for you to go reopening old wounds.”  
“It wasn't my intention to try and do so. But there are questions that need to be asked, for the sake of his health and well-being, Jethro. Like whether or not that monster bothered to use protection... And really, Anthony should go back to be retested. There's no telling-”  
“You test that bastard Cullen, then, first,” Gibbs interjected. “If he's got anything we need to worry about, then we'll go from there. I'm not subjecting Tony to anything else unless it's absolutely necessary.”  
“It's okay, Gibbs,” Tony's voice sounded behind them, and both men looked over, not having noticed that the agent had come out. “Not that I wanna talk about what happened, or anything. But I know when it's important not to tip-toe around a victim,” he flinched and swallowed against what he'd just called himself. “But you know that, too, Boss.”  
“You don't have to do this right now, Tony, is all I meant,” he retorted. “Been a long day.”  
“Been a long day for all of us,” he said, then looked at Ducky. “He used a condom,” he told him. “And he tied it up and took it with him when he was done. Then he...” Tony closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly swallowing down bile that rose in the back of his throat. “Gave me an enema...just to make sure there was nothing for anyone to find; 'just in case', he said.” Tony looked down at the deck for a long moment as they were all silent. “Who knows?” he asked, then looked up at them. “Besides you two and McGee...who knows?”  
“The only people in observation at the time were Agent Fornell and the director,” Ducky supplied.  
Tony looked down again, shaking his head with a bit of embarrassment. “I...I don't want anyone else to know. I don't want it on the report; don't want him charged for it.”  
“What?” Gibbs questioned, incredulously.  
“He's not going anywhere,” Tony met his eyes again. “He killed five people that we know about; one of them being an innocent child. He's going to a maximum security prison for the rest of his life. There's no reason for this to be on the damn record. I don't want it to come up again, Gibbs... please.”  
After a few moments of thought, Gibbs replied, “It's your decision. And I'll back you up on whatever you decide to do.”  
Tony seemed to relax marginally. “Thanks, Boss.” He looked at Ducky, “So, McGee's really okay?”  
“I sent him home with some pain killers. I do believe he'll be alright,” Ducky told him. “You'd be quite proud of him; the way he handled Cullen.”  
“Yeah?” Tony raised a brow.  
“Seems he knew a thing or two about pushing a person's buttons, himself. He left Cullen screaming, begging to be killed.”  
Slowly, a proud smile crept onto Tony's face. “That's my probie.”   
A grin painted Gibbs' face and he shook his head.


	36. Chapter 36

As the end credits rolled, Gibbs and Jackson headed into the kitchen to sit at the table with a cup of coffee. Tony turned to Ziva, who sat beside him on the couch, still looking scrupulously at the words on the screen for what, he didn't know.  
“Hey, Ziva?” he caught her attention and she looked over at him. “Can I ask you somethin', without you getting all...well... concerned?”  
“Of course, Tony,” she replied, narrowing her eyes in question.  
“I need you to help me,” he began, looking down at the cushion between them for a moment. “I need...to understand how to contain...things; like emotional things,” he looked back up at her. “I don't know how to do it anymore, and Gibbs says I'll figure it out in time. But I really don't foresee that happening very quickly. I thought maybe...maybe you might be able to help me. You're like a pro, after all,” he smirked a bit, though it didn't reach his eyes.  
“You want me to teach you how to bottle things away?” she verified.  
“If that's what it takes...”  
“Tell me, Tony; in all the years that you have known me, would you come to the conclusion that I am somehow more emotionally healthy than any of you?” she quirked a brow.  
Tony let out a small laugh, “Well...you've gotten better, I think. You've been more open. But...I wanna know how to be like you were in the beginning. I need to know. I can't be this way, and expect to be able to do my old job.”   
The inner-anguish shined clearly in his eyes, and it saddened Ziva to see him this way. Tony had almost always been able to hide what he was feeling; at least from the people that didn't know him very well. And even to those who knew him, sometimes it was difficult to interpret what exactly he was feeling, but they could tell that there was something.  
“Bottling is not the answer,” she began, and he tried to protest, but she held up a finger to stop him. “However, I believe that the answer lies in being able to keep yourself in check. And until you can do that on your own, we can help you.”  
“How do I do it on my own?” he pressed.   
She considered him for a moment, then turned in her seat, “Here. Sit as I am,” she said as she crossed her legs to sit completely on her cushion and face him.  
Tony complied and sat to face her, seeming to become a bit excited. “Are we gonna do some ancient ninja secret thing?” he asked with wide eyes.  
She let out a laugh through her nose, “Something like that. Now...close your eyes,” she ordered.   
He complied. “Okay...now what?”  
“Sshh,” she ordered.  
He took a breath through his nose and tried to be patient as he awaited further instructions. He couldn't help when thoughts began to flood his mind. Thoughts of being in the trunk of that car...  
Ziva opened her eyes and studied Tony's face. It wasn't completely surprising when he seemed to become suddenly disturbed.   
Tony was surprised with a sudden whack to the back of his head, and his eyes shot open. “Hey!” he protested. “No one gets to do that but Gibbs!”  
“Do you want my help or not?” she asked, calmly.  
“I didn't realize it'd include physical pain,” he panned. Ziva cocked her head and raised a questioning brow. “Okay... maybe I had...some small inkling that it might include pain...”  
“Are you angry?”  
“Slightly peeved, I think would be a better definition, yeah.”  
“When Gibbs head-slaps you, you immediately fall back into order, do you not?”  
“When Gibbs does it, being the key phrase in that statement. And I don't think this problem is exactly the same.”  
“Perhaps not. But it is a physical reminder when you are...overly experiencing an emotion... Or perhaps, experiencing one that you should not be experiencing,” she explained. “Like just now, for instance; you were afraid.”  
“What?” he narrowed his eyes.  
“When you closed your eyes, you were afraid. You were thinking about something that brought back a feeling of fear. I could see it on your face.” Tony swallowed and his face flushed as he looked away. “And now you are embarrassed. You do not need to be.”  
“How can I not be?” he asked her, meeting her eyes again. “I can't even hide my after-thought of feelings anymore.”  
“You do not need to be embarrassed, because I am aware of why this has happened to you, as are the rest of us,” she told him in a calm voice. “And you do not need to be afraid of what you see when you close your eyes, because those things will not happen again. We will not allow it.”  
“Don't...” he shook his head. “Don't say that, Ziva,” he glanced toward the kitchen before looking at her again. “You can't make that promise, anymore than Gibbs could.”  
“The only mistake in Gibbs' promise was that we had the wrong man. Now we are certain we have the right one.”  
“And you're certain he can't get out? Certain he won't escape transport like he did last time? Don't make me a promise, Ziva...just don't. You can't control the universe and I don't want you to blame yourself if something does happen, the way Gibbs did...”  
For a long moment, Ziva simply looked at Tony in thought. “If something did happen, blaming myself would be the least of my worries, Tony,” she told him. “But I do promise you, no matter what happens, we will not let him hurt you again.”  
Tony's head dropped; chin rested against his chest as his eyes closed. He took a breath and slowly let it out. “Point is...I shouldn't need you to try and reassure me,” he told her. “I shouldn't feel like this. This isn't how I am...I don't like it. And I don't like that a ten-year old version of me made a promise to Gibbs without consulting me first!” his voice cracked and he pushed up off the couch and headed for the stairs, in an attempt to hide the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes.  
“Tony...” Ziva stood and went after him.  
“It's not your fault,” he said, avoiding showing his face. “Really, Zi, just...just let me be...”  
“What's goin' on?” Gibbs asked as he came into the room.  
“Nothing,” Tony told him as he turned away and headed for the stairs again. “Nothing is goin' on, Boss. Everything's fine, right, Ziva?”  
“We were just talking, Gibbs,” she told him, guiltily. “I did not mean to upset him.”  
“You didn't,” Tony insisted, gripping the banister in strong effort to pull himself together. “It wasn't anything you said, Zi. It's me...this is just me...”  
Gibbs pulled Ziva gently back toward the living room and bent to whisper in her ear, “You should go. He doesn't want you seein' him like this. It's important...trust me. And this is not your fault, Ziver.”  
“I understand,” she replied as she pulled away. He kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Gibbs; Jack,” she nodded with a small smile into the kitchen before turning to make her leave. “Goodnight, Tony,” she said softly before reaching for the door handle.  
“I'm sorry...” he replied. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him; make everything better. But she understood why it wouldn't help... She reluctantly opened the door, glancing guiltily in Gibbs' direction once more before closing it behind her.   
Gibbs came up behind Tony at the bottom of the staircase and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
“I'm...really tryin' here, Boss,” Tony insisted. “Unfortunately, there's no way to turn something off, when you have no godamn clue how the hell it came on in the first place,” he said with what he attempted to be a laugh, but his hitched intake told Gibbs differently.  
“Just take some deep breaths,” Gibbs suggested. “Help calm yourself down. Then we can go downstairs and have a drink; maybe it'll help.”  
“'Kay,” he replied shakily. “Yeah...I'll...I'll meet you down there in a sec.”  
Gibbs resisted the urge to stubbornly stick around while Tony got himself under control, and decided to trust him to do it on his own. “Alright,” he lightly squeezed his shoulder before letting go and heading toward the basement door.   
Gibbs understood that a big part of Tony's difficulty was the way he reacted in front of his teammates. Whether or not they were understanding about it, Tony needed to keep that part of himself as hidden as he could.   
He poured bourbon into two mason jars, showing his faith in Tony following through with his word. And it was only a couple of minutes before he heard the soft footsteps descending the staircase. He didn't turn to look at him until he heard them pause before reaching the bottom. And he half-expected Tony to have sunken down on one of the steps where he usually did. But he was just standing there looking down at it for a moment, before continuing the rest of the way down.  
“Maybe I should call my therapist tomorrow,” he said as he made his way over. “I wonder if I'm still eligible, seein' as I've missed about four appointments in a row...or is it five now? Haven't really done the math...”  
Gibbs handed him one of the jars, “That what you were thinkin' about when ya stopped on the stairs there a second ago?”  
Tony waited until he swallowed a gulp of the bourbon before shaking his head, “Nah. Thought about that a while ago. Just never said it out loud 'til now. The stairs...well...” he glanced back over at them for a moment before taking a seat on one of the saw horses and looking back up at his boss. “Before all this...I remember feeling like I needed to stop right about there; not come down any further until I got whatever I had on my mind out in the open.”  
Gibbs smirked and pulled a saw horse over to sit down across from him. “Always thought maybe you were testing the bear before entering the cave.”  
Tony let out a small laugh, “Maybe a little of that, too.” They both took another sip of their drinks. “But mostly, it was the distance.” Gibbs gave him a questioning look. “It's as close as I could get to you before I'd automatically bottle away whatever I wanted to talk about,” he explained. “Or before I'd...glamourize it somehow; make it seem not so bad, or turn it into a joke when I tried to talk about it.”  
Gibbs considered him for a moment. “And now?”  
“Now...” his eyes darted around a bit. “Now, it doesn't matter how for away I am. There's no bottle; nothing to put it away in.”  
“Ya don't need a bottle,” Gibbs said. “Not supposed to use one. Just gotta learn to cope.”  
“Now you sound like Ziva.”  
“That what you two were talkin' about up there?”  
“I asked the queen of emotion-cloaking if she could give me any pointers,” he explained after finishing his bourbon and setting the jar down for more. “Her answer was to head-slap me, and of course that back-fired.”  
“Why'd she think that'd work?”  
“She said I'm always pulled back to attention when you do it. But that's probably the key; I don't do it for just anyone...”  
“That why you got upset?”  
“Partly... not completely, though,” he said as he poured another shot of the bourbon into his jar. Gibbs watched him as he downed the second glass in one swig. He was relieved when he didn't go for a third glass, in which case, he would've had to take the bottle away.   
Tony stood and began pacing, slowly, around the basement, fiddling with whatever items he came across.  
“Why'd you do it, Boss?” he asked when he stopped in front of the workbench on the other side of the basement.  
“What do ya mean?”  
Tony turned to face him, “Why'd you order him to stay?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes in question. “He told you it would screw me, Gibbs. He told you what it would do to me,” his eyes became glossy as he spoke. “That it could stop me from being who I am. Yet you still made him promise. Why?” he voice cracked. “Why did you do it?”  
Gibbs stood from the saw horse and set his glass down before looking at him again. “He's part of you, Tony. The way you were dealing with stuff before-”  
“Don't even start with how 'unhealthy' it was, Gibbs,” he said, almost angrily. “Because this, right here, sure as hell isn't healthy.”  
“Tony,” he stepped toward him.  
“No!” his voice cracked again and he blinked rapidly against oncoming tears. “No, Gibbs! It's not fair that you took advantage of the fact that he worshiped the ground you walk on! Of course he'd do exactly as you asked, regardless of the fact that he knew exactly what it would do to me! 'Cause that's exactly what I would've done...” he yelled; eyes suddenly darting around with the realization of what he'd just said.   
Tony could see, then, that Gibbs had been right. That little boy was him. Knowing that he was real, that he existed, it wasn't possible to let him simply cower in the back of his mind acting as a simple dream-catcher; sifting through and absorbing everything he couldn't handle himself.   
He couldn't hold in the sob that came with the sudden reluctant acceptance. “I can't do this...” he cried. “I can't be who I was, Boss...” he felt Gibbs' arms around him, then; supporting him as his legs gave out from underneath him, like the weakening resolve that his mind had just complied to. “What am I supposed to do, now?” His hands clutched the front of Gibbs' shirt, and had he not been so distracted by the anguish that enveloped his entire being, he would've been embarrassed by his actions.   
But Gibbs held him just as tightly, and they ended up seated on the floor; Tony still held firmly against his chest as he let go of everything he'd been trying so desperately to keep inside that day.   
Gibbs didn't have an answer for Tony. Not one that he'd accept or believe right now, anyway. So he simply sat there with him, waiting. Waiting for a regaining of control, or for him to figure out the answer for himself...or maybe just for the exhaustion to take him over. Whatever the outcome, Gibbs would stay there with him and wait...


	37. Chapter 37

It had been several minutes that Tony had been burrowed against his boss's chest in tears. Gibbs couldn't help but to have a thought run through his mind; one he couldn't quite figure out on his own.  
“Tony, can I ask you somethin'?” he asked the quieting agent in his arms.  
Tony sniffed. “Depends,” he replied. “Is it gonna make me start to cry again?” he let out a small laugh.  
“Hope not,” he scruffed his hair, affectionately.   
Though he felt he should probably not be burrowed against Gibbs' chest still, he couldn't bring himself to move away. “What is it, then?”  
Gibbs took a breath. “Did you always feel this way?” he asked. “I mean...before the mess with Cullen; before any of it. Is this how you always feel?”  
Tony felt compelled to move then, and he reluctantly pulled himself away from Gibbs' hold on him. “This is...a lot more intense,” he replied as he looked at the floor in front of them. “I've felt it in short bursts; like a door opening up before the new stuff gets thrown in, and just for a moment it's all there in front of me. But I could always shut that door. I could always stop it. Now...now that door doesn't even exist.”  
“And all that stuff you've been throwin' in there, all these years, is comin' back to bite you in the ass,” Gibbs said.   
“You could say that,” Tony smirked, but it quickly faded. “This is...my whole life, Boss,” he said, looking over at him. “Everything I didn't even know I was storing away; every bad thing that's ever happened... I thought I was just better at handling it than most people. But I wasn't handling it at all. And now, all that stuff is...mixed in with everything else. It's like...poison.”  
“It'll get easier, once you've dealt with it all, Tony.”  
“Once I've dealt with it all? Decades of awful memories... How long do you suppose that's gonna take?” he asked with a large dose of incredulity. “And when I've dealt with it, if that happens, where do I go from there? How do I even know I can handle my job anymore? I can't be this way and do my job, Boss.”  
“Yes, you can,” Gibbs retorted. “You didn't shove everything in that room, Tony. There's no way everything fit in there. And you dealt with those things that didn't. That younger version of you dealt with that pain, and he's part of you, even moreso now. You've just gotta figure out how it works, and I'm not claiming to know how to go about doing that. But I do know, that if anyone can do this and come out of it a better man, it's you.”  
“You've got an awful lot more faith in me than I do,” Tony said quietly.  
Gibbs put an arm around Tony's shoulder and squeezed for a moment, “That's just how it is, sometimes. But not to worry; I've got enough for the both of us.” He moved to stand and proffered his hand to help him up. “Come on; let's get you upstairs so you can sleep this off.”  
Tony narrowed his eyes at him as his took his hand, “I'm not drunk, Boss.” As he was pulled up to stand, his head swam for a moment and Gibbs helped to steady him when he swayed a bit. “Maybe a little buzzed...”  
“There's more than one reason you're supposed to sip that bourbon, DiNozzo,” he smirked as he led him toward the stairs.

11 00 11 00 11

Morning had come too soon for some of the team. Namely, McGee. He'd have slept a lot longer had Abby not been consistently nudging at him to wake up and get ready.  
“Oh yeah,” he thought. “I can't drive myself in today.” He groaned like an unhappy child who was being forced up to go to school, as he threw the blanket off of him and swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Can't I just call in?”   
“No way I'm leaving you here alone today, Tim,” she replied as she began to set out his clothes. “And I can't take the day off; there's a murder to be solved.”  
“Since when?” he furrowed his brow as he looked up at her.  
“Since about four this morning, apparently,” she told him. “But I just got the call to come in.”  
“I can't do anything, Abs. There's no point in me going in. So, you're forcing me to wake up and get dressed, just because you have to go in and don't trust me to stay here myself?”  
“Uh huh,” she nodded without hesitation.  
“Abby...”  
“Don't worry! You won't have to do anything. You can go back to sleep on my futon in the lab.”  
“You're playing a pretty shady mother, Abs. I'm surprised you don't have a backup sitter on speed dial,” he went to push himself up to stand from the mattress, momentarily forgetting his hands as he pushed with his knuckles. He let out a struggled yelp and bent over where he stood, cradling his curled up hands against his belly and trying really hard not to cry.  
“Oh, McGee!” she crossed the room to get to him. “You need to be more careful! See, this is why you can't stay here alone.”  
“If I was alone, I'd be in bed all day not using my hands,” he retorted.  
She sighed, “I'll get the pain meds Ducky sent home with you.” On her way back to him with pills and a glass of water, she had an epiphany, “Oh my gosh! Timmy, I totally do have a backup sitter!”  
“You've gotta be kidding me...”  
“You can go to Gibbs' house!”  
“Abby, I don't need a sitter.”  
“You're going to Gibbs', or you're coming with me. It's your choice.”  
“If I really had a choice in the matter, I'd be sleeping still.”

11 00 11 00 11

“He's all yours, Bossman,” Abby said as she gently pushed McGee in the door; McGee shooting him an apologetic look. “Here's his medicine; every 4-6 hours, Ducky said. He's a little cranky since I woke him up this morning against his will. But something tells me you can handle that.”  
“I got it, Abs,” Gibbs leaned forward to kiss her cheek.  
“Bedtime's at ten, and don't feed him after midnight!” she called out as Gibbs shut the door with a slight smirk at the movie reference that he actually did know.  
Gibbs made his way into the living room where he'd seen McGee head toward. The agent was sitting on the couch with his hands protectively in his lap and his head laying on back as he looked up at the ceiling.   
He didn't straighten until he felt the couch dip beside him. He picked up his head and looked over at Gibbs, “Sorry about this, Boss. She didn't give me much choice.”  
“How's your hands?” he asked.  
“They're uh...they're throbbing excessively. But I took some pain killers. They should start working at some point.”  
“You need anything?”  
“No, Boss, I'm okay. I would've liked to sleep a bit longer, but there's no way that's gonna happen now that I'm up. Sometimes Abby can be overbearingly...overbearing,” he smirked.  
Gibbs returned the smirk. “Only because she cares,” he replied. “Jack went into town to get some things from the store. Won't be back for a bit, and I was gonna head downstairs. Tony's still asleep. So if you wanna crash on the couch for a while...”  
“I could try...thanks.”  
“What you did,” Gibbs turned a bit to face him more directly, “How ya handled yourself with Cullen; I'm real proud of ya, Tim.” Something akin to astonishment glistened in McGee's eyes at the praise. “I don't think any of the rest of us would've been able to hold back, the way you did. Vance seemed to know that, too. Ya did good, McGee. And I don't think I need to remind ya to wear gloves next time,” he smirked.   
“Natural consequences are a bitch,” he let out a small laugh, which quickly stopped as he realized he'd just cussed. “Sorry, Boss... Pain killers must be kicking in.”  
Gibbs just shook his head at the absurdity of the apology as he stood from the couch, “Get some rest, McGee.” He patted him on the shoulder and headed toward the basement. 

11 00 11 00 11

The house had remained silent for around an hour, causing Gibbs to believe that McGee had fallen asleep. So when he heard his father's truck pull up outside, he put down what he'd been working on and trotted up the stairs to be sure that when Jackson came in, he wouldn't make too much noise and wake him.   
He was a little surprised to see that McGee was still awake, lying on his back on the couch with his hands held out in front of his face, looking at them in morbid fascination. Gibbs redirected himself toward the living room.  
“You okay, McGee?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.  
“Yeah,” he replied, without looking away from his hands. “Just thinkin' how much more acceptable this grotesque new look would be, had it happened from hitting the actual Cullen, instead of the apparition of him on the heavy bag. In fact...they might not even be this bad, had that been what happened.”  
Gibbs didn't miss the slight slurring of his words. As it would seem, pain killers didn't only have this effect on DiNozzo.   
Jackson came in, then. “Leroy, gimme a hand with these bags, would ya?” he asked as he walked in with two paper bags nearly covering his face. Gibbs took them both from him and headed into the kitchen as Jackson turned to close the door. “Hey there, Tim,” he greeted as he came into the living room. “Looks like ya did a number on your hands there. They hurt?” he asked as he sat on the arm of the couch.  
“Not right now,” he replied, sitting up a bit. They both turned their attention to the stairs when they heard footsteps descending them.  
“G'morning,” Tony grumbled a bit as he reached the bottom. “Hey, Probie,” he gave a small smile. “What're you doin' here?”  
“Abby insisted I not be left alone to do more damage to myself,” he rolled his eyes.   
“Oh Jesus...your hands,” Tony grimaced as he sat on the coffee table across from him and examined the agent's damage.   
“Yeah, I know,” Tim groaned. “I wasn't thinking.”  
“You're the smart, cautious one on the team, McGoo. I'd have expected this to happen to me...but not you.”  
“Well, I've been told a lot lately that I've been channeling you.”  
“See? I'm like poison,” he smirked.  
“Not completely,” McGee raised an amused brow. “Cullen's face would've looked a lot worse than my hands, had I been completely out of myself.”  
“Are you implying that I wouldn't have been able to contain myself?” Tony challenged.  
“I'm implying that you had even more reason to beat the guy's face in, and maybe I shouldn't have held back.”  
“Well, from what I heard, you did him one better. Not sure what you said to him, but the end result kinda had me...well...proud of ya,” he gave him a small smile. He swallowed as the grin faded a bit. “Thanks for that, by the way.”  
McGee furrowed a brow and sat up, swinging his legs off the couch and planting his feet on the floor. “You don't have to thank me for that, Tony. It was nothing...”  
“It was a lot more than ya think, Probie,” he said in a low voice.


	38. Chapter 38

Cullen twisted and tied; twisted and tied...fashioning the bed-sheet in his holding cell; the only thing in the room beside the cot and toilet. Tomorrow...tomorrow they'd be taking him to prison. Or at least they thought they would be.   
He tied off the end of the bed-sheet and moved to stand up on the cot. Reaching over carefully, he tied one end of the sheet to the pipe in the ceiling, and fit the fashioned loop on the other end around his neck...

11 00 11 00 11

“You eat yet, McGoo?” Tony asked.  
“It's only a little before eight,” he replied. “No, I haven't.”  
“Well, come on, then,” he motioned for him to follow him into the kitchen. “Let's find you something that won't require much...dexterity. That, or I can feed you,” he gave a devious little grin.  
“Ha ha,” Tim responded, partly in annoyance, but mostly amusement.   
“I'm only tryin' to be helpful,” Tony said as he rifled through the remaining contents of the bags Gibbs had set down on the table.  
“Hey now!” Jackson lightly tapped Tony on the back of the head. “That stuff is for lunch and dinner. Leave it be.”  
“Yes, sir,” Tony shied away.  
Gibbs smirked and shook his head, just as his cell rang. He fished it from his pocket and put it to his ear after glancing at the caller ID. “Yeah. Gibbs,” he said as he walked partway out of the room.  
Tony turned to the fridge and opened it. “Okay, we've got...eggs. I can make you some eggs. Do ya want eggs?” he turned to look at McGee.  
“You're not makin' anything, young man,” Jackson scolded, playfully. “Sit your happy ass down and I'll fix ya both somethin'.”  
“You don't have to do that, sir,” McGee protested. “I'm okay with cereal or something.”  
“Can't make a sandwich outta cereal, Tim,” he smirked.  
Their attention was pulled toward the living room when they heard Gibbs' voice raise a bit on the phone, “When?” Something churned in Tony's gut, and it took him a moment to catch up with his own thoughts. Had Cullen escaped? Again? “Do I need to come there?” Gibbs' voice pulled him out of his thoughts before he could get too caught in them. “Alright. Let me know,” he said before ending the call.   
“Boss?” McGee called with a furrowed brow, and the lead agent looked over at his audience. “What's going on?”  
Gibbs took the few steps that led him into the kitchen. “That was Ziva. ...Cullen's dead.”  
“What?” Tony asked. “How?”  
“Transport came to pick him up; found him dead in his holding cell. Made rope out of the cot sheet and hung himself from a pipe in the ceiling.”  
“No,” they all looked at McGee who seemed greatly disturbed by this news. “That's not how this was supposed to happen...”  
“He's gone now. I'm pretty okay with that, Probie,” Tony told him. “I think everyone is.”  
“He was supposed to suffer,” McGee met his eyes for a moment before looking down and pushing away from the table. “I...I should've hit him. Shouldn't have held back,” he shook his head. “The only reason I didn't kill him, right there, was because he was supposed to suffer for the rest of his pathetic life... But he got away with it again... he got away with everything...” he turned and walked out of the kitchen and straight for the basement door.  
Tony stood there for a moment; eyes still fixed on where McGee had been standing.   
“I'll go talk to him,” Gibbs said, putting a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder.  
“No,” Tony replied. “Let me.”

*~.~*

Tony descended the stairs to the basement and found McGee sitting in front of the bench, glaring at the bottle of bourbon that sat on it.  
“Kind of early to drink,” Tony said, lightheartedly.   
McGee shook his head and looked down. “I should've done it,” he said in barely a whisper.   
“Come on, man,” Tony said as he approached him. “I'm proud of what you did; I told you that.”  
“He deserved pain,” Tim continued. “But that's me; Timothy McGee, doing things by the book. I wanted so badly to make him hurt, but I followed the rules. Hell, right now I want a drink...I can't even do that. It's too early, like you said.”  
“There's a logical reason for those things,” Tony argued.  
Tim looked up at him. “I can't think of a single logical reason for not having hit him,” he replied. “Not now. I had one reason before this...But now? There's not one damn logical reason.”  
“There's plenty,” Tony retorted. “You not being suspended, for one. And then there's hypothetical reasons. Like this bourbon, for instance. Yeah, it's logical not to drink at this time of day. But hypothetically, if you decided to drink it anyway, Gibbs might kick your ass for not asking in the first place.”  
“That's not the same, Tony,” he pushed up from the saw horse and walked aimlessly to the middle of the room. “The only reason I didn't personally cause him to suffer, is because I was so sure someone else would do it.” At the shaky sound in Tim's voice, Tony walked up to stand in front of him again. “I shouldn't have held back,” he said as he met Tony's eyes; his own, glassy with emotion. “I shouldn't have held back...and I'm sorry.”  
“Godamnit, Tim,” Tony pulled McGee into a hug, trying to save them both from exposing tearful eyes. “He's gonna suffer; don't you worry about that. He's burning in Hell as we speak.” That got a small laugh from Tim. “Besides...it kinda makes me feel a lot better that he's gone,” he said as he pulled gently away. “I don't have to worry anymore. He can't come back. He can't show up on the street. I don't have to look over my shoulder and wonder...not anymore.”  
Tim met his eyes again, red but under control. “I'm glad he's dead, too,” he admitted. “But it doesn't change the fact. If I'd known he was gonna die like this, I would've let myself give in. After what he did to you...” his voice cracked. “I should've done something. And for that, I'm sorry...” the last part came in barely a whisper as his throat constricted.   
Tony wasn't sure what to say. He'd almost successfully gotten himself to forget about the fact that Tim knew; the one thing he really didn't want anyone to know, ever. But McGee's reaction hadn't been to coddle him; to treat him with some advanced stage of pity. He'd wanted to beat the monster who'd done it to him. He'd wanted...exactly what Tony would've wanted to do, if the roles had been reversed.   
“Knowing...that you would've done it, had you known,” Tony told him, “Means more to me than I can say, Tim. You don't break the rules for just anyone,” he smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood. McGee seemed to be considering those words. In effort to reassure him, he put his hands on Tim's shoulders, “I'm proud of what ya did, McGee. So don't go thinkin' that I'm somehow disappointed. 'Cause I'm not. Got it?”  
Looking him in the eyes to find nothing but sincerity, McGee nodded, “Okay...”


	39. Chapter 39

2 weeks later...

“I'm very impressed with your progress, Tony,” Dr. Kevin McNamara told him. “You've come a long way in a short amount of time.”  
Tony had been coming to this therapist for the past ten days, every other day. “I don't feel like I've come that far, Doc,” he replied.  
“For what you came in with, you've come far. Trust me on this.”  
“Well, I've had a lot of help,” he conceded.  
“Yes, you have. You've got some pretty great friends.”  
“Family,” Tony corrected.  
“Letting Ziva help you again was a very trusting action.”  
“I couldn't really blame her for me losing control of my anger. And she'd still the best person for the job of hiding what you feel.”  
“Not hiding...”  
“Not hiding,” Tony sighed, “Just not showing it when it's necessary not to show it.” Kevin smirked at him. Tony narrowed his eyes, “What?”  
“You're not just telling me what I wanna hear, now, are ya?” he asked.  
Tony let out a small laugh, “I wouldn't do that, Doc. But believe me, the last thing I want is to start hiding it all away again. It's what got me to that point in the first place, right?”   
Kevin smiled softly as his nodded and appraised him, contemplatively.   
“So...” Tony broke the somewhat awkward silence that had flooded into the room unexpectedly. “Time for rehashing again?” McNamara had come up with a technique for Tony from the second visit on. Each time Tony came in, they'd talk a bit about his previous day and his interactions with his friends. Then Tony was to talk specifically about his entire experience in Cullen's possession; day by day; as much as he could recall.  
Each talk, he seemed to remember some small detail he hadn't before. And each time, it became a little easier to say it. It had gotten to the point where there were a lot less tears and practically non-existent anger. Simply an acceptance of what had happened, and the feeling of content peace that it couldn't happen to him again, or anyone else.   
“No,” Dr. McNamara told him. “Today, I want you to do something a little different.”  
“What?” Tony questioned.  
“I want you to rehash, Tony. But I want you to rehash to Gibbs.”  
“What?” he replied, incredulously.   
“He's your friend, Tony. The one I truly believe you trust more than anyone else.”  
“I don't wanna put all this on him,” Tony pushed up from the couch and began pacing the room, nervously.  
“He can handle whatever you have to say, Tony,” Kevin replied, calmly. “You've told him some of the things you've told me, already. Why is this any different?”  
“Because it wasn't everything,” he replied; a bit of shakiness in his voice. “He shouldn't have to hear everything... He already blames himself, no matter what I say. How much torture do I need to put him through by telling him about mine?”  
“He can handle it,” Kevin repeated. “In fact, he wants to.” Tony stopped and looked at him with surprise and confusion. “Not knowing everything, can sometimes hurt even more. Especially if he really does blame himself somewhere in his mind. Gibbs has spoken with me, and he wants to do whatever he can to help you, Tony.”  
“He already has. He is,” Tony said, sinking back down onto the couch as his eyes fixed on the coffee table between them.  
“Yet he wants...no, he needs to do more. I can see it in his eyes.” Tony met Kevin's eyes then. “He wants to do this, Tony. You need to let him, just as you let Ziva back in. You need to trust him with this, like you have with everything else. Tell him, as you've told me. Then he'll know everything; nothing will be hidden anymore.”  
“I've told you...” Tony retorted, weakly, looking back down at the table.  
“Telling me, helps you to accept it yourself. But it's still hidden from your world, Tony; from your real life. Telling Gibbs, is revealing it to your world. No more secrets, but your secrets are safe. This is a step I'm certain you need to take,” he told him as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “It's a big step in the direction you want to go. I can't make you take that step. You have to chose to take it or not. It's up to you. But I don't know that you'll be able to carry this sense of calm with you around your team, as you do with me, if you don't allow him the privilege you've allowed me.”  
Tony looked back up at him; eyes searching both of his as he contemplated what he'd been told...

11 00 11 00 11

“How'd it go?” Gibbs asked as he pulled the car away from the front door; Tony pulling on his seat belt as they drove off.  
“You ask that every time.”  
“'Cause I wanna know every time,” Gibbs replied, raising a brow. “Unless you don't wanna tell me...”  
“That's not what I meant,” Tony shook his head. “I'm sorry...”  
“Ya don't need to say you're sorry. I'm prying; I admit it.”  
“Yeah, but you're doin' it because you wanna help me. Not because you want news for the scuttlebutt,” he smirked as he looked over at his boss.  
“That shrink's gettin' into your head, DiNozzo,” he said, almost laughing a bit as he shook his head. “I can hear him sayin' that.”  
“Well, he's right, most of the time,” Tony replied. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked absentmindedly out to the road in front of them. He must have zoned out, he thought, as Gibbs' hand squeezed his shoulder and he realized they were at a stop-light he hadn't even noticed pulling up to.  
“You alright?”  
Tony glanced over at him, “Yeah, Boss. I'm fine, “ he gave a small smile. “Just thinkin'.”  
Gibbs put his hand back on the wheel as the light turned green. “Anything interesting?”  
“Just somethin' Dr. McNamara said today.” Gibbs held back from asking; waiting to see if he would volunteer the information. After a few moments, he did. “He said I should um... Well...we've been doing this thing called 'rehashing'. I tell him, in as much detail as possible, everything I remember from when Cullen had me in that room. Every day, starting with when I woke up in there, up until the day you guys found me. I've told it to him 4 times now, I think.”  
“You tell him every time you go in there?” Gibbs verified.  
“Yeah... It's actually a lot easier to do now. Guess that's why he uh... Well, he thinks it's important, for me coming back to work and all, that I do this. Specifically, that I rehash to you, Boss,” he looked over at him with a slight grimace.  
Gibbs glanced at him from the road for a moment. “You don't have to do anything ya don't want to, ya know. But I'd be honored for you to trust me enough to tell me. And you know I'm here to help you, in any way I can.”  
“I know I don't have to,” Tony said. “And you should know by now that I trust you more than anyone. I just...” Tony paused and glanced out the window at nothing in particular as he carefully considered his words. “There's a lot to tell, Boss. If I'm gonna tell you, you need to promise me that you won't carry it around like it was somehow your fault. I know you told me you'd try and stop feelin' that way, but I know you,” he met his eyes for a moment. “You need to promise me, Gibbs. 'Cause I can't put all these things into your head with a clear conscience, if I know you're just gonna use them to fuel the fire.”  
He watched Gibbs as the older man watched the road in front of them. He saw when he swallowed and his adam's apple bobbed. “You still feel guilty about Jenny's death?” Gibbs asked in a quiet voice. Tony hadn't been prepared for the question, and he flinched slightly in response. “We're not so unalike, you and I,” he continued. “Feeling the guilt, no matter what anyone tells you; no matter what evidence proves it wasn't your fault. Still, somewhere deep inside, no matter what you might tell everyone else, you feel it; that tiny little suggestion that we could've prevented something...”  
“Postponed it, maybe,” Tony added, and Gibbs glanced at him again. “In both situations, yeah. There was something we could've done differently. Neither of us knew, had any idea what was going to happen. It was completely unpredictable. As if somehow, things would've turned out differently the next time around...when neither of us knew what to expect in the first place, and never would have after that. So yeah...there's a small hint of guilt still there,” he said, turning to look at Gibbs again. “But Jenny's not here to tell me whether or not that's how she wanted things to go down.”  
“Tony...”  
“Sure, everyone had their theories. But that's all they are if there's no way to prove them. There's a chance that that wasn't how she'd planned for it to happen. A small chance, mind you. But a chance, nonetheless. I don't get that reassurance from her...that she doesn't blame me...Something that'd make that gut-wrenching feeling go away. But you do, Boss. I'm still here. And I'm telling you that it's not your fault; none of it. It wouldn't have mattered if you weren't in a shit mood that morning. He would've found a way, just like he did in the park. Things still would've gone down the way they did and you still wouldn't have had any warning or clue what'd happened to me.” He let out a small, incredulous laugh, “Hell, Boss...had it gone any differently, things could've ended differently as well. Maybe if you hadn't been a bear that day, and things played out another way, the butterfly effect would've landed you a day too late to find me...”  
“Okay, DiNozzo, I get it,” Gibbs said as he pulled up to the house. “I do. And I'm tryin'; that I can promise you. I'm tryin'. And I still want you to 'rehash' with me, okay? I won't let it fuel anything. At least, I'll try not to let it,” he cocked his head and turned off the car. “That work for you?”   
Tony appraised him, “Guess that'll do for now.” 

 

11 00 11 00 11

Ducky had graciously agreed to take Jackson for dinner that evening, leaving Gibbs and Tony with the house to themselves. In the chill of the early night air, Gibbs decided to get a fire going. He was poking at it when Tony came in with a couple of beers for them both and sat down in the armchair as he placed the bottles on the coffee table.  
“First thing I remember after that first day, was this dreadful sound coming from what I now know was a music box,” Tony said, fairly quietly. Gibbs put the poker down and turned his attention to his senior field agent, moving to the couch as quietly as he could, so as not to deter him from continuing. “That off-key music, and Cullen singing along with it. Then he'd stop and ask me who he was. At first, I didn't know...”   
Gibbs did remember when Tony had talked about the first day; when Dr. Green had been here.  
“The guy was a sick, twisted asshole,” he swallowed before opening his bottle of beer. “Always setting up these...tea parties and playing that damned music. He kept me drugged so I wouldn't move from the table. It's the creepiest feeling...not being able to move, even though you're not really being held down by anything...” he took a swig of his beer. “The first few nights were the worst,” he told him as he continued. “It was freezing in there; dark. Not a sound anywhere...so quiet, I could hear my ears ringing. My arms hurt so bad; my shoulder even worse from hanging there. Had he left me without the drugs, I might've been able to stand a bit. And sometimes he did. But yeah...the first few nights were the worst. Until I realized that they were the only time I had without him being there. Then the nights were the best; the most peaceful.” He squinted a bit in thought. “Now that I think about it, I can't really be sure it was night. All I know is that it was dark. He always left after turning off the lights...and he'd be gone for a long time.”   
He met Gibbs' eyes for a moment, realizing then that he was being given his undivided attention. He smirked a little as he thought. “Knowing you, I'm betting I got more sleep than you did, while I was there.”  
“You might be right,” Gibbs replied. “'Course, Ducky drugged me a couple of times.”  
“He did what?” Tony's brows rose.  
“Yeah...slipped it into my coffee, the bastard. And I fell for it more than once. In my defense, though, I was sleep deprived.”  
“Ducky's a good man,” Tony grinned. But then his grin faded. “Cullen drugged me, too. He wasn't very sneaky about it, though. But that third day, I was sure I could get out of there...sure I could make a run for it. Cullen wasn't any bigger than me, really. I'd almost made it to the door, too. Next thing I know, there's a sharp pain in my leg and I'm hittin' the floor. Gave me so much of it, I was out before he could drag me back to the wall. I spent a lot of time on that wall, Boss...pumped full of some drug or another. I'm actually seriously surprised I can sleep at all without anything, now,” he let out a small laugh. “'Course, it may have something to do with bein' able to lie down.” He took a swig from his bottle, and watched as Gibbs reached for his own.  
“Ya know,” Tony said as he had a thought, “This might be a little easier...if you were talkin', too.” Gibbs raised an inquisitive brow. “Maybe you could tell me what you did, or what you remember doing, on whatever day I'm talkin' about. Like an interlude in between what I say...?”  
Gibbs shrugged, “Okay... well, you're up to what...day three?” Tony nodded. “Day three...it was pretty late; dark out. Vision started to double, and I decided I should probably order everyone home for the night. We'd been there since you went missing. No one had asked to stop or take a break. Don't think anyone ate that day, either, come to think of it. I had to make it an order for them to stop.”  
“Did they?”  
“Yeah. They stopped. But they didn't go home. When I got back to the bullpen, I found 'em both sleepin' at their desks,” he smirked.   
“And what about you?”  
“After forcing Abs to let Ducky take her home, I snagged her futon and maybe caught a few hours. Enough to get my vision back straight.”  
“None of you stopped for three straight days?” Tony asked, brows furrowed, but something akin to honored surprise glittered in his eyes.  
“You would've done the same for any of us.”   
Tony nodded without hesitation. “Okay...guess it's my turn. Um...day four. The drugs were really starting to get to me. Made me feel like I wasn't in control, and I suppose that was the point. He started those picnics...I mean...tea parties. Asked me, again, if I knew who he was. I couldn't answer; I still didn't know. He put me in a chair and when I tried to get out of it, he started taking swings at me. It was so pathetic, not being able to fight back. All I could do was fall to the floor and he'd kick me until I was gasping for air long enough for him to grab a syringe and plunge more of that crap into me that made it so I couldn't move. Then he'd put me back in the chair and tie me down. And he'd go about the tea party with his imaginary daughter. He'd put this plate of biscuits there...and I could smell them. I was so damn hungry.”  
“When he was done with the tea parties, what did he usually do?”  
“He'd put me back on the wall, most of the time. Sometimes he'd clean me up; cut my hair...weird things. But in the end, I'd always go back on the wall. I remember that night...on night four...I thought that maybe if I concentrated hard enough, I'd be able to talk to you with my mind, in a dream or something. I imagined what you'd say in return. I...really thought you'd find me that next day...” his voice trailed off and his gaze fell to the flames in the fireplace. “It's silly,” he laughed lightly. “But I thought maybe...anything's possible.”  
“Maybe if I'd slept that day, it would've come through,” Gibbs halfheartedly smirked.  
“Must be why you never got any of my other messages either,” he gave him a sad smile. “How 'bout your day four, Boss?”  
“Same blind searching, different day. If I remember correctly, McGee came real close to tossing his monitor across the bullpen,” he grinned. “Then he realized that it wouldn't help. That, and Vance was standing on the stairs behind him.”  
Tony let out a small laugh. “I think McGoo's 'almosts' are more enjoyable than going through with it.”  
“To hear about, maybe,” Gibbs smirked. “Day five, he actually did throw it,” his grin widened.   
“No way,” Tony's eyes widened with amused surprise.  
Gibbs nodded, “Damnedest thing, too. It was the middle of the day; a Saturday, and no one was there but us and a few guys from John's team that wanted to help. McGee fell asleep at his desk; woke up twenty minutes later, outta breath,” his voice got a bit quieter as his face softened with recollection and his gaze drifted somewhere past Tony. “His eyes were red, but he had just woken up. There was somethin' in them, though, that I couldn't quite place, and I never asked him... He looked at his screen and his face scrunched up for a second before he shouted at it, picked it up, and hurled it toward the Most Wanted wall.”  
“He didn't say why?” Tony inquired.   
“Nope,” he replied, meeting his eyes for a moment before taking a swig from his beer. “He stood there for a moment; don't think he realized everyone in the room had been lookin' at him. Don't think he cared. He stalked off to the head. Came back out a minute later and started cleaning up the mess. Never said anything about it, and I didn't ask. Figured he'd tell me when he was ready.”  
“Did he ever?”  
“A week later,” he told him. “I went to his place to check on him after having sent him home early. He'd looked about ready to keel over mid-day; ordered him home to sleep and not come back until he did. I said somethin' along the lines of him bein' useless to me if he lapses into a coma from exhaustion. He was pissed, but if ya didn't know him, ya wouldn't have been able to see it.”  
“But he went home anyway,” Tony verified.  
Gibbs nodded. “When I got there after work, he'd been drinkin'.”  
“Probie was drunk?” Tony's eyes widened.  
“Said he couldn't sleep; had a few to try and get him there. So I decided to stay and make sure he'd be okay. It was later that night that I asked him what happened that day with the monitor. He said he'd had a dream; couldn't remember exactly what it was, but that it was somethin' about you. When he woke up, he had this overwhelming feeling of dread, fear and hopelessness, and somehow it combined to turn into anger, and he couldn't stop himself.”  
Tony looked at him a moment longer before his gaze fell to the coffee table. “The fifth day, I woke up in the dark again, and I realized who Cullen was,” he told him. “I was so confused, ya know?” he let out a small laugh as he glanced up at his boss for a moment. “I'd been racking my brain, trying to recall who I pissed off so bad. Turns out, this guy was the last person I'd ever have suspected. Guess that's why it took me so long to remember. But I figured, now that I knew, maybe when I told him, something would happen. There would be some kind of...change or new demand; a way to get myself out of it. Like remembering who he was would mean my freedom, or lay a course for allowing someone to get me outta there.”  
“But it didn't,” Gibbs surmised.  
Tony shook his head. “Turns out he didn't really care all that much that I remembered. He came in, wound up that godawful music box and started singing. And the very next thing he did was shoot me up with more drugs so he could pose me for the damn picnic...” he swallowed. “I really didn't understand it, at the time; the picnics. In context though, now, I guess I do. He was playing out his last visit with his kid. I'm just...not sure what role I played in all that. Maybe the cat...” he smirked after a moment of thinking about that.   
“He just tied you there and had a picnic?” Gibbs asked.  
Tony nodded. “I think it was another form of torture. It did start to hurt by then. I was so hungry; so thirsty. And there was food and drink right there in front of me, but I couldn't move to grab it. He told me that if I'd behave, maybe the next day I'd get to come to the picnic without the drugs, and I'd get to eat.” He narrowed his eyes as he thought. “The next couple of days, he only came by to give me broth and sedate me. It wasn't until the eighth day, when I was starving and desperate, that I begged him to let me eat,” he looked up at Gibbs with a bit of shame. “He let me eat...and you know what happened from that point...”  
Gibbs nodded. Then he squinted for a moment in thought. “Come to think of it, Abby was sick that day. She insisted on coming in, and Palmer ended up havin' to take her home and stay with her. Duck said it was most likely the stomach flu. She was fine the next day though.”  
Tony seemed thoughtful for a moment, then let out a small laugh, “That reminds me of this foreign film I watched one night,” he said. Gibbs couldn't help but smirk. “It's called 'Crazy'. Like the Patsy Cline song. The main character's mother kept havin' these moments in the night where she could feel the pain of her son who was always far away at the time. She didn't know what was happening, or why, but she felt it... Think that's what happened to McGee and Abs?”   
“Not sure about that,” he replied. “But I guess anything's possible.”  
“Pretty big coincidence for it not to be...and I know how ya feel about coincidences, Boss,” he smirked.  
“You should also know how I feel about science-fiction,” he returned the smirk.   
“That, I do,” he laughed and took another swig from his beer. The smile slowly faded from his face. “It was a couple of days eating those things, before I decided I couldn't anymore. It wasn't worth throwin' up; wasn't helping me. When I wouldn't take them anymore, he decided he needed a different course of action. He might've been a monster, but he wasn't stupid.”  
“The pizza...”  
“Yeah,” he let out a nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his head. “After...after that... I don't remember much of anything for maybe a week's worth of time, McNamara and I have calculated. But the next thing I recall, is waking up, freezing cold, and that prick comin' in tellin' me I could have a blanket if I... was willing to pay the price for it.” Gibbs flinched. “I refused. Nothin' happened... But he drugged me again and put me on the table. This is the first treatment I remember...”  
“Treatment?” Gibbs inquired.  
“Somehow, I knew what was gonna happen, like it'd happened already. But this is the first I can clearly recall it happening. The ECT thing... Doc says that's probably why I don't remember that week beforehand. It's probably when it all started. I'm pretty fairly certain that he had no godamn idea what the hell he was doing,” he told him as his eyes wandered somewhere between them. “I've read about it, and it's not supposed to hurt. You're not supposed to be awake for it...”  
“He left you awake...”  
“Yeah. Made sure I wasn't able to move or talk. Couldn't even scream... I can't even describe what it felt like...as many times as I've talked about it. There's still no words...” For a few minutes, he was silent; seemingly contemplating. Then he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The next day was when he came in flipping out about someone knowing where I was; tryin' to find some kinda homing chip under my skin. I swear the guy had to have been on some kinda drugs. I'm lucky I didn't get completely flayed alive.”  
It was silent for a few moments before Gibbs decided to speak. “I called my father,” he said. Tony looked up at him. “About a week an' a half before we found you. At that point, I'd not been payin' to much mind to what McGee an' Ziva were doin'. I was at my wit's end,” he admitted. “I called him to tell him you'd been taken and I didn't know what to do anymore.” Tony swallowed as he listened to Gibbs' confession. “We had nothing, and I'd begun to lose whatever little hope I'd had up to that point. I thought I'd called him to tell him you were gonna die, or may have already. But it turns out I was lookin' to hear what I needed to hear; somethin' not many people were willing to tell me anymore. That you wouldn't give up because you were strong-willed and hard-headed. Guess I needed that reminder, after Vance started mentioning giving up and finding a replacement. I didn't wanna give up, but I needed the reminder that it wasn't just my stubborn ass that wanted to keep going just because I wouldn't let myself quit. I needed to know I was gonna find you alive...I needed hope.”  
He met Tony's now shining eyes. “I didn't give up,” Tony said in almost a whisper, against the steadily growing lump in his throat. “Not until that last day,” his voice cracked and he blinked a few times, trying to control himself. “I thought you might find me before it was too late... until that last day, Boss. That last day, I just waited to die. I was just happy that Cullen hadn't come back. I was ready to go... I'm sorry,” he shook his head and took some controlled breaths through his nose. “I'm sorry I gave up, Boss...”


	40. Chapter 40

Gibbs watched Tony for a moment as the man attempted to hang onto his control; not allow himself to crumble. He shook his head and spoke then, “I gave up that last day, too,” he told him. Tony met his eyes in a bit of question. “When I walked into that room and saw you hangin' there...” he swallowed. “I thought I was too late. Thought you were gone; that I'd failed you,” he voice was a whisper now as he remembered that ache in his heart that he'd felt in those moments.  
Tony kept his eyes on his boss even as Gibbs got a far away look as he recalled finding his friend.   
“I barely recognized you, that first couple of moments. But I knew... You were so...worn away; lifeless... I couldn't see your chest moving. I literally thought you'd been dead a while.”  
“I must've looked pretty damn bad,” Tony interjected. Gibbs met his eyes again and nodded slightly. “That wasn't really giving up, Boss,” he told him. “It was...acceptance.”  
“Not acceptance,” he shook his head. “Resigned to fate, maybe. Which is exactly what you'd done,” he told him, narrowing his eyes. “You didn't give up hope, Tony. After everything you went through; everything you did in order to survive...” Gibbs moved from the couch when Tony looked down at the floor; head hanging. He moved to sit on the coffee table facing his senior agent, and put two fingers under the man's chin to pull his head up so he could look at him. He could see that he was on the verge of possible tears. “Whatever we felt near the end, we were never wrong to have the hope we had that kept us goin'. It brought you back to us. And you shouldn't feel ashamed for what you had to do to stay alive.”   
Tony tried to shrug away and hide his face again, but Gibbs held him from doing so by placing his hands on either side of Tony's face. Tony grasped both of Gibbs' wrists, possibly with the intent to pull them away, but couldn't find the fight within himself. He let out something akin to a silent sob before trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of emotion that he couldn't even define.  
“You shouldn't be ashamed, Tony,” he repeated. “Because if ya hadn't done everything you could've done, both of us would've been hopin' for nothing,” his voice cracked. “Maybe that makes me a selfish bastard,” he absentmindedly moved his hands to Tony's shoulders, but Tony's gaze locked with Gibbs'. “But I'm glad ya did what ya did, 'cause I honestly don't know that I'd have ever been able to forgive myself...”  
“Don't say that, Gibbs,” Tony said, shaking his head.  
“'Til you told me otherwise, I thought, for sure, you'd blamed me... How was I supposed to live with that?” he narrowed his eyes. “How was I supposed to go on, knowin' you'd died 'cause I was careless?”  
“No...” Tony's face pinched at the burning of his eyes, before he leaned forward and pulled Gibbs into an embrace. “You would've been okay... You would've figured out it wasn't your fault. Abs and Ducky would've proven it to you...”  
“But I wouldn't have known if you'd blamed me...and I wouldn't have been able to live with the fact that you'd died thinkin' I wasn't comin' for you...”  
Tony felt Gibbs' arms tighten around him and it caused his eyes to well up from the rare, raw display of emotion from his boss. “Don't you ever think that,” Tony told him; voice cracking. “Ever again... I would never blame you, Gibbs. I would never think you weren't doin' everything you could...” he sniffed back tears that freely and unashamedly fell. “Promise me that if anything like this ever happens again, you won't think that.”  
“Not gonna happen again, DiNozzo,” Gibbs told him, pulling gently away.  
“Just promise me,” Tony met his eyes with a stern seriousness that Gibbs couldn't ignore, and grasping a fistful of the older man's shirt so that he couldn't go much further away. “'Cause if it ever does, I don't want my final thought to be that I let you down...”  
Gibbs swallowed and blinked a few times before replying. “Okay, Tony. I promise... But I also promise to do everything in my power to never let anything like that happen to you ever again.”  
“Stop!” Tony wanted to yell as he pushed up out of the chair and crossed the room, but it came out as a plea. “Stop thinking that you somehow allowed any of this to happen!” he turned to face him as Gibbs stood. “We've been over this, Gibbs; this was out of your control. No one saw it comin'. It's not somethin' you could've prevented. It wasn't anything you let happen. And you can't spend the rest of our careers watchin' my back.”  
“That's my job, DiNozzo,” he retorted.  
“It's part of it,” he reminded. “Same as havin' yours is part of mine. And we've always had each others' six, Boss; nothin' changed about that. It's not why I got taken. And you can't watch over me 24/7. You're not responsible for keepin' me safe, so don't take that burden upon yourself, and especially not out of some misplaced guilt over something you could've have changed.”  
“What am I supposed to do?” Gibbs asked with a furrowed brow.  
“What you've always done!” Tony exclaimed. “You're there for me, Boss. Sometimes, things happen. But you're always there for me, and that's more than I could ever ask for. You're the best friend I've ever had and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I don't want you to change. Not a thing! Hell, I still want to be confused, on occasion, by your misdirected anger about not having coffee! I sure as shit don't want you to tiptoe around me and make me out as some glass elephant you can't allow into any situation that might make it fall and shatter.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath. “I appreciate everything you've done for me; everything you're still doing, more than I can convey. But none of it means anything if you let what happened change more than me. I need you to be the same, Gibbs,” his voice cracked. “I need you to be what you've always been for me...please.”   
Gibbs considered him for a long moment before taking the few steps toward him to bring him to stand before him. Just as he thought the older man might hug him again, instead, Tony felt a medium-strength head-slap. He hadn't been prepared for it; but then again, half of the time, he never was.   
He flinched; eyes closing for a moment before opening them again to meet Gibbs'. Then, slowly, a grin appeared on his face. “Thank you, Boss.”  
Gibbs smirked and scruffed Tony's hair for a second before turning to walk into the kitchen.   
Tony watched him leave the room, then straightened himself and combed his fingers through the back of his hair, making sure it wasn't sticking up. He smiled to himself.


	41. Chapter 41

“Well, Agent DiNozzo,” Vance said where he sat at his desk, cocking his head at Tony who was seated across from him. “You've been declared fit for duty, both physically and mentally. But do you feel ready to come back to active field work?”  
“It's been nearly two months since I was found, Sir,” he replied. “I've worked hard to get myself ready for this. So, yes, I feel ready.”  
“I know being on desk duty isn't your cup of tea,” he smirked.  
“No, Sir,” he replied. Tony had been okay with being allowed to come back at all a couple of weeks ago. But he was itching to be back out in the field with his team.  
“Let me just clarify that this isn't an evaluation, DiNozzo. I know you're ready; I've seen how hard you've been working, and you've come a long way.” Tony was a bit surprised that the director had noticed his efforts. “I think you're ready. Just wanted to make sure you thought so, too.”  
His efforts hadn't gone unnoticed, though Vance hadn't specifically been following him around to find out for himself. On more than one occasion, he'd seen Tony in the gym sparring with Gibbs, or working out at the weight bench with McGee as his spotter.  
What he hadn't witnessed, personally, was the daily run with Gibbs and sometimes Ziva, or his boxing practice with Tim; giving him a few pointers besides wearing gloves.   
Tony had put back on a significant amount of muscle mass and body weight, at least for the short amount of time he'd been recovering. He no longer appeared unhealthy. He'd been doing an exceedingly good job behind his desk. But Vance needed his complete MCRT back. It'd been over three months since he'd had that.  
“You're back on active field duty as of this morning, DiNozzo,” Vance told him.   
Tony couldn't hold back a grin. “Thank you, sir.”  
Vance nodded, “I believe Agent Gibbs has your badge and gun.”  
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he repeated as he stood.  
“You're dismissed. Oh, and DiNozzo?”  
“Sir?”  
“Welcome back,” he grinned.   
Tony returned the grin and nodded before heading out of the office.

*~.~*

“Gear up!” Gibbs said as he hung up the phone on his desk. “We've got a dead Navy Lieutenant.” He looked up as he pulled his gun and badge from his desk, and Tony had come down the stairs and rounded into the bullpen and toward him. “Done with Vance already?”  
“Yeah, Boss,” he replied. “He said you'd have my badge and gun?”  
“That mean you're back on active field duty?” he raised his brows in accompaniment of what almost could've passed as a smile.  
Tony nodded, not hiding his own smile. Gibbs really did grin, then, and fished Tony's gun and badge from his desk, handing it over to the agent, gladly.   
Ziva and McGee shared a smile as they followed the two older agents toward the elevator.

11 00 11 00 11

The four agents entered the back yard of the two-story house, led by the officer who'd discovered the body. Ducky and Palmer were close behind. They all listened as the officer explained how he'd found the scene.   
“Doesn't look so bad out here,” he told them as they approached the deceased Lieutenant, who was face down in the grass; limbs splayed as though he'd fallen there. “Inside, is a whole different story, though.”  
As Gibbs slipped on a pair of gloves and knelt down by the body, he looked up at his agents. “DiNozzo, McGee,” he nudged his head in the direction of the house, “Get started inside. Ziva, start taking pictures out here.”  
The three of them nodded and turned to begin their tasks; Ziva readying her camera; Tim and Tony heading toward the house.   
Once they reached the door, Tony let out a curse under his breath. “Left the bag back there,” he told McGee. “Guess I'm a little rusty,” he gave a small, self-demeaning smirk.  
McGee returned a small smile and shrugged a shoulder, “At least it's only a couple of yards away and not still at the office.”  
“True,” Tony replied. “I'll be right back,” he turned as Tim entered the house.   
Mere seconds passed when suddenly the earth beneath Tony's feet shook and grumbled, causing him to freeze in his steps and look down in a bit of confusion. Just moments after that, he heard the explosion...  
Time seemed to almost stop completely. He turned back toward the house in time to see part of the house engulfed in flames; debris from one side of it still flying through the air.  
“McGee!” Tony yelled out as he took off at full speed back toward the door Tim had only moments ago entered...

*~.~*

It'd been so surreal... One moment, Gibbs had glanced up to see Tony coming back from the house, inevitably to retrieve the bag he'd just left behind. And the next, the rocking of the ground beneath him, in combination with the awkward crouching position he'd been in, caused him to topple to his ass on the grass behind him.   
Though debris was flying toward them, he hadn't taken his eyes off of his senior agent, who seemed to be frozen in place. But he'd only been frozen for a moment, and then he'd spun around, screaming out for McGee. And now, he was running toward the house...  
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs called after him, pushing himself up from the ground, and glancing at the other, briefly, to see that they were all okay, before going after Tony. “Tony, stop!”  
“McGee!” he yelled out again as he approached the door. “I can't leave him!”  
“It's too dangerous, Tony!” But Gibbs hadn't reached him in time before the agent slipped into the house. “God damnit!” He'd been about to charge in after him, when the officer in-scene grabbed his arm. “What the hell?”  
“Sir, the fire department is on the way,” he shouted over the chaos. “You can't go in there.”  
“The hell I can't! I've got two men in there!” he argued.  
“Just give Agent DiNozzo a minute! He might can do this on his own...”  
“This isn't exactly a 'wait-and-see' kind of activity!” That's when the housed seemed to groan in protest, and both men looked over as the roof suddenly caved in on one side, effectively blocking the door Gibbs had watched both of his agents enter through... Gibbs shook his head in denial, “No...”  
“Tony!” Ziva was suddenly closer to the house, trying to peek through windows. “McGee!” she called frantically.  
Gibbs suddenly came back to himself and started around the house. There was at least one other door. Maybe another to the basement. He didn't notice when the rest of them followed behind his quick pace around to the front.  
“McGee!” Gibbs exclaimed as he saw the younger agent seemingly thrown from the front door to land on his side a few feet from the entrance. He was quickly at his side and helping him to sit up as Tim coughed against whatever smoke he'd inhaled. “You okay?”  
“Tony...” he coughed and wiped at his bloodied face. “Tony's trapped- pushed me out!” he coughed again, struggling in an attempt to stand up. “Gotta go back!”  
As Gibbs looked up, he noticed the others were surrounding them. “You stay here,” he told McGee. “I'll go get him.” He stood.  
“Jethro, it's far too dangerous...” Ducky protested. Gibbs ignored him and rushed toward the house. “Jethro!”  
“He pushed McGee out the door,” he explained as he continued. “Can't be that far into the house. You take care of McGee.” With that, he disappeared into the burning structure.  
It was amazing; the intense wall of heat and smoke that hit him as he entered. But the brightness of the flames is what ultimately caused him to throw an arm over his eyes. “Tony!” he called out, trying to conserve what oxygen he'd sucked in before heading inside.   
He didn't hear a voiced reply, but heard coughing coming from somewhere close by. He turned toward the continuing sound and pulled his arm away from his eyes, blinking rapidly.  
Not two feet from him, Gibbs saw Tony pinned against the wall beside the staircase, by a fallen beam across his midsection. His head was resting on the beam beside him; body only moving with his coughs against the smoke.   
Reserving his oxygen, Gibbs continued to hold his breath as he hurried to his agent. He grabbed Tony's face in both of his hands to get his attention. Tony coughed and cracked open his eyes.   
“B...Boss?” he croaked before entering into a coughing fit. “B's, get out- outta here...”  
“Not without you,” he replied as he assessed the predicament. The beam had been a center support for the house. It seemed that the entire back part, where McGee had originally entered, was consumed by the flames. And they lit up the fact that the floor had caved in on that side; the explosion had originated in the basement. The beam had been supported by the ground floor, and once that had been disturbed, it had fallen, pinning Tony against the wall before hitting the corner of the intact ceiling.  
It only took a moment for Gibbs to realize that he simply needed to climb under and up through to stand beside Tony and push the beam away. Maybe just enough for Tony to slip out.   
He began his task and squeezed up at a less-tight angle beside Tony, where the beam was a bit further from the wall. He was running out of time to hold what breath he had left, and felt his chest begin to protest as he positioned himself to push against the beam. With all his might, he grunted as he pushed against the beam.   
As the obstruction began to budge a bit, he glanced to his agent. Tony was unconscious. “DiNozzo!” he yelled, letting out the last of his breath and having to suck in a deep breath of smoke. As his lungs spasmed against the intrusion, Tony stirred and his body slipped down the wall to the floor, clearing the beam before Gibbs let it go.  
Quickly, Gibbs ignored the burning sensation in his chest and swooped down to grab Tony from the floor, haul him up, wrapping Tony's arm around his shoulders, and practically dragged him toward and out the front door.   
Tony became slightly more aware once the air hit his face, and he pulled from Gibbs' hold on him and dropped to his hands and knees in the grass as he gagged and coughed with frightening force.   
Gibbs was crouched beside him in a heart beat; a hand patting the agent's back as heaving was added to Tony's struggle. Gibbs looked up to see the concerned faces of the rest of the team. McGee was trying to shove the oxygen mask at Palmer to take to Tony; yelling, even, in protest that Tony needed it more than him.   
Ducky was crossing the yard to get to them, and Ziva was shouting into her phone at, who inevitably must have been the ambulance dispatch. But her eyes were fixed on the two older agents as she paced.   
Gibbs' attention was pulled back to Tony when he felt the harsh trembling of the younger agent's muscles beginning to give out. He pulled him, as Tony began to roll to the side, back against his chest so that he was sitting up with Gibbs' support.   
“Anthony, dear boy,” Ducky said as he knelt down in front of them and placed the oxygen mask on Tony's face. “Take this, and breathe as deeply as you can manage,” he instructed as he cranked up the output on the tank.   
Tony grasped onto the mask and tried to do as he was told, but felt as if he was doing more coughing than breathing in. “How long on that bus, Duck?” Gibbs asked and broke into a slight coughing fit of his own.   
“There are two on the way,” he reported. “They should be here momentarily with the fire response team.”  
“How's McGee?”  
“He has some minor burns and lacerations; mild smoke inhalation. But I do believe he'll be alright. Now please, Jethro, allow me to check over Anthony,” he said as he fixed a blood pressure cuff on Tony's arm.   
“Probie...okay?” Tony verified between coughs.  
“Yes, Tony. He'll be fine, thanks to you,” Ducky told him. “Timothy had been thrown into a wall and disoriented to the point of not being able to see to find his way out,” the doctor explained to Gibbs. “Had Tony not gone in after him, he surely wouldn't have gotten out in time.”  
Almost poetically, the housed groaned behind them again, and they turned to watch as the middle of the house caved into the flames.   
The fire alarms sounded in the distance and Gibbs met Ducky's eyes again. He'd been right, of course. There's no way McGee would've gotten out of there in time.  
“Can you hear me alright?” Ducky asked Tony. He nodded. “Any trouble focusing on me?” Tony shook his head and looked a bit past him as Palmer and Ziva were helping McGee over toward him.   
“His lungs, Duck?” Gibbs questioned.   
“The fact that he's conscious and able to speak to us and see us, tells me his brain is receiving enough oxygen. Which in turn, means that his lungs haven't taken on too significant of damage, as far as I can tell. But given his medical history, I must insist on allowing them to take a look at him at Bethesda.” He met Tony's eyes again, “Were you injured?”  
Tony shook his head as he gasped in air from the mask.  
“He was pinned down across his stomach,” Gibbs informed him.   
“Tony, you 'kay?” McGee practically stumbled to the grass beside him and covered his mouth as he went into a small fit of coughs, himself.  
Tony cleared his throat and gave the best grin he could manage before pulling the mask from his face. “Lookin' better than you...Probie,” he said, then broke into another coughing fit.   
“There's the ambulance,” Palmer pointed as the first bus sped up the driveway...


	42. Chapter 42

Tony cleared his throat and gave the best grin he could manage before pulling the mask from his face. “Lookin' better than you...Probie,” he said, then broke into another coughing fit.   
“There's the ambulance,” Palmer pointed as the first bus sped up the driveway...

As the majority of them turned their attention to where Palmer was pointing, McGee was filled with concern for his mentor who seemed to be struggling to get his breathing under control; his hand loosening from its hold on the mask. McGee took over holding it for him.  
“Tony? You okay?”   
Tony turned his eyes to focus on him. “Ask'd...th't a'rdy, ...McGoo...”   
McGee narrowed his eyes and focused on the mask for a moment before pulling it away and feeling for a flow. “Ducky?”   
The doctor turned back from where he stood waving down the buses, and looked at the agent. “Why have you removed the mask, Timothy?” he crouched back down.  
“I don't think... anything's coming out,” he handed it to him.  
Ducky took the mask and put it over his own face, breathing deeply, and then checked the level on the tank. “How on Earth is this thing empty already,” he said as he tossed the tank aside and reached over to take Tony's wrist in and check his pulse. He noticed how limp the agent seemed and worriedly glanced at his face. Tony's eyelids were growing heavy and his head beginning to list to the side. “Anthony, I need you to stay awake for us,” Ducky told him, patting his hand. “Timothy, try and keep him awake, will you?”  
Tim met Gibbs' tired eyes for a moment before reaching over to gently pat Tony on the cheek, “Hey, Tony...wake up, okay? We need you to stay up...”  
“Lee' me 'lone...” he replied is a raspy, weak voice.  
“I...can't do that,” Tim let out a couple of coughs. “Look...listen, I've gotta...tell you something.” He turned Tony's head so that he was looking at him. Tony cracked his eyes open. “Thank you...for saving my life.”  
Tony just barely curled the corner of his lips up into a weak smile. “Ev'n...now...” he said, then coughed in such a feeble manner, that it was more frightening than the hacking he'd done earlier.  
“Even?” Tim questioned. “For what?” he asked as the ambulances parked in front of them.   
“Save...saving...” his eyes fluttered closed.  
“Tony?” McGee shook him, to no avail.  
“Hey, DiNozzo,” Gibbs' hold on the agent shifted and he tried to pull him from his sleep, but it was no use.   
Soon, the agent was being pulled from his teammates by the medics and put onto a gurney. McGee and Gibbs were tended to by the technicians from the second bus, but Gibbs kept insisting that he was fine and that they needed to tell him what was going on with Tony. But before they could get any information, the ambulance was driving away with the senior field agent and Dr. Mallard, riding along with him.   
“I'll call dispatch and have them give us an update, sir,” one of the medics told him.   
Gibbs nodded in appreciation and looked back over at the burning house as firefighters worked to douse the flames. He saw Ziva pacing again, a finger in the ear that wasn't occupied by her cellphone as she shouted into it over the noise.   
He looked at McGee, who's eyes were fixed on the fiery blaze in front of them, as he breathed deeply through the oxygen mask on his face and the medic cleaned his wounds. A blanket was wrapped around him, as well as Gibbs. And they'd given Gibbs oxygen as well, though he really didn't feel it was necessary.  
“Director Vance has another team on its way,” Ziva's voice pulled his attention to her as she now stood in front of him. Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment and narrowed his eyes as he scanned the area. “Are you both alright?”  
“Where's officer what's-his-face?” Gibbs asked.  
“Excuse me?” Ziva questioned.  
“The officer...the guy who led us onto the scene,” he elaborated.  
“I-” she glanced around the scene before meeting his face again, “I have not seen him since we found McGee out front,” she told him.   
“Sonofabitch,” Gibbs took of the mask and set it down in the bus before standing and allowing the blanket to fall from him.  
“Gibbs?” Ziva questioned.  
Gibbs looked around for a moment before turning around to face Tim.  
“Boss?” McGee looked at him in question, slightly anxious by Gibbs' stance.   
“What'd you see in that house, McGee?” he asked.  
“What's I see?”  
“Before the explosion.”  
“Uh...” McGee blinked a few times as he tried to conjure this information Gibbs required. His brows furrowed as images rushed back to him. “A lot of blood,” he told him. “Drag marks leading further into the house...”  
Gibbs' eyes shifted back and forth as he thought. “Not leading out the back?”  
McGee shook his head and seemed to catch on to what Gibbs was thinking. “You think....you think there was another body?” he inquired. “And that the officer had something to do with it?”  
“I don't think he was an officer at all,” Gibbs replied. “I think the guy who called us to the scene is in that house,” he motioned with his head to the burning building.  
Tim's eyes darted around in thought. “The guy we were talking to...he killed our vic, returned to the scene with intentions of blowing up the house and covering up the evidence. Ran into our officer and had a slight change in plans...” the younger agent said as he stood. A sudden dizzy spell hit him, and before he could fall over, Gibbs and Ziva took hold of him on either side.  
“Yeah,” Gibbs replied, guiding him to sit back down. “He swapped clothes; must've done it before he killed him.”  
“The house must have been rigged to explode once someone walked in past a certain point,” Ziva surmised.  
“I'd gotten to the door that led to the basement,” McGee told them. “When I went to open it...I...” his eyes wandered a bit. “That must've been when it went off. I don't...remember exactly.”  
“Ziva, you bring the replacement team up to speed when they get here,” he told her as he fished into his pocket to find his keys. “I'm ridin' to the hospital with McGee. You keep me posted, and I'll do the same,” he narrowed his eyes, and she nodded, knowing what he'd meant.  
“Boss, I don't think I need to go to the hospital,” McGee insisted.   
“You've most likely got a concussion, McGee. Better safe than sorry.” 'Besides, we need to go anyway...'

11 00 11 00 11

After McGee was whisked off to radiology for x-rays, Gibbs made his way to the ER intake front desk and asked where to find DiNozzo. But before he could get an answer, Ducky came through the doors to meet with him.  
A shudder ran through him as he had a sudden feeling of deja vu.  
“How is he, Duck?” he asked, hesitantly.   
“Anthony is doing quite well, Jethro,” the doctor calmed his fears. Gibbs let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “They've had him on a steady flow of oxygen since he's been in the care of the paramedics. He's awake and alert and asking about you and young Timothy.”  
“Take me to him, then,” he replied.   
As they walked, Ducky brought him up to speed on the diagnosis and why Tony had lost consciousness. The lack of oxygen coupled with Tony's weakened lungs, both from the scarred tissue from his fight with the plague, and his more recent bout of malnutrition and loss of muscle mass, caused his system to shut down to preserve his oxygen levels the only way it knew how.   
They approached Tony's room and Gibbs was immediately met with a look of relief from his senior agent as they entered. “Boss! You're okay...”  
“Well yeah, DiNozzo,” he smirked as he approached the bed. “Why wouldn't I be?”  
“I dunno,” he replied, crinkling his nose subconsciously against the nasal cannula. “I don't remember too much after you got me outta there.”  
“Well I'm fine. So is McGee, thanks to you. He wouldn't have made it out if you hadn't gone in after him.”  
Tony took a moment to allow that fact to settle. He swallowed, then met Gibbs' eyes again. “I wouldn't have made it out, if not for you, Boss. You risked your life, comin' in there after me...”  
“You risked yours goin' after McGee, Tony. It's what we do. It's our job. And you did a damn good one today.”  
Tony narrowed his eyes as he looked into his boss's. There was something there that he hadn't seen in a while; maybe confidence.   
Gibbs might not have even realized why the feeling was so powerful; the fact he'd saved Tony, and no real harm had come to him. All of his agents were safe, and Tony was more than capable of doing his job.   
Everything seemed right with the world, or at least getting there.  
“Where is the probie?” Tony inquired.  
“Getting an x-ray, just to be on the safe side. He'll be happy to know you're okay.”  
“Ziva's okay, right?”  
“Yeah, she's fine. Stayed back with the other team. We think the guy who we met at the scene is our vic's killer.”  
Tony's eyes flashed, and Gibbs raised his brows, knowingly. Tony had a way with coming to conclusions without having to be told. And as he guessed, frighteningly accurately, Gibbs couldn't help but to grin.  
Tony was definitely and irrefutably back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin


End file.
